Hurricane Darce

March 01, 2017:

Hurricane Darcy finally mows through Bucky and Jane's lives, getting a much overdue update on all that's transpired.

Brooklyn, New York

Characters

NPCs: None.

Mentions: Steve Rogers, Peter Quill, Thor, Peggy Carter, Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Melinda May, Barry Allen, Phil Coulson

Plot:

Mood Music: [*\# None.]


Fade In…

Darcy had been scrolling through her phone, staring at a name, debating deleting the conversation history when she scrolled accidentally and spied another name: Jane.

Bitch never did call her. or text her. or…

Putting her phone down, Darcy keyed into her SHIELD log in and did a search. A few minutes later, she was heading out and sending a text.

3/1 11:16AM DARCY - (coffee emoji, doughnut emoji, comet emoji) Heads up.

Darcy hits send only after she's gone to collect coffee and dougnuts from Starbucks. Because that was the ONLY decent coffee and doughnut shop IN New Mexico and… Princess Science is an astrophysist. The humor was not lost on Darcy. So, Darcy waits just outside Jane's door having sent the usual 'I am bringing you coffee now so put on a clean shirt and pretend you are human' text. Darcy counts to sixty, and then she bangs on the door.

When the door opens, Darcy's in work attire. That is, tight fitted black dress slacks over high heels that put her at nearly six feet tall. A white blouse is tucked into these pants and she's got a black blazer, unbuttoned, over that. She's wearing a scarf and her beat up knitted beanie. She's drawing a breath with the doorknob turns, totally expecting Jane. She's so expecting Jane, she's already starting to blurt out her usual 'I brought you coffee, Star-for-Brains' greeting.

It's some time before anyone answers. Did Jane not see Darcy's text? Is her phone lost somewhere again?! She was always misplacing the damn thing. One afternoon it went missing and they looked for hours, only to find it in a random New Mexico sand dune. Jane still maintains to this day that she has no idea how the phone got there. It was a miracle the device even still worked after its ordeal.

Nonetheless, after about a minute or two, steps can be heard approaching the door. Strange, though: Jane's such a tiny, petite woman, and that doesn't sound like the approach of a tiny, petite woman at all—

The person who opens the door is definitely not Star-for-Brains.

Because Peter Quill has a big damn mouth, Darcy has certainly heard of certain changes in Jane's personal life, but hearing is one thing and seeing it standing in the doorway of Jane's apartment is another. Especially when 'it' is an unfamiliar young(?) man, still taller than Darcy even in her stratospheric heels, brown-haired and blue-eyed and definitely not Thor.

He is also not wearing his shirt, because his shirt is over his left shoulder, only partially hiding the fact that said shoulder— along with the rest of his left arm— is unmistakably solid metal. He must have been in the middle of exercises, or… something…

"Uh," he says. "Are you looking for Jane?"

"So I brought you doughnuts, the least you could do is what the fuck." Darcy's eyes are wide as she peers at Bucky. Openly checks him out. Her head moves, lowering her eyes down his frame then back up, taking in every detail that a girl or guy (Darcy does not judge!) might find yummy. She notes the silver arm and the ripply muscles before her eyes even consider roaming his face and stopping on those bright baby blues.

"Yeah. She in?" Darcy asks, waiting just long enough for Hunkster to start to confirm it before she cups a hand around her mouth.

"OH MY FUCKING GOD ON A STICK JANE TELL ME YOU CLIMB THIS TREE DAILY AND I WILL NEVER BE UPSET BY YOU IGNORING MY TEXTS MISS I FORGOT WHAT MY PHONE WAS YOU COULD HAVE AT LEAST GLOADED AT ME ABOUT TALL DRINK OF YES PLEASE TAKE ME AGAINST THE WALL NOW I'M NOT JUST JEALOUS I AM VERY VERY HURT THAT YOU WOULD FAIL TO SHARE A PICTURE OF I AM READY NOW WITH YOUR BEST INTERN FOR LIFE!!"

Darcy'd.

The apartment in itself is no more than a brownstone walk-in in the bowels of Brooklyn, a nondescript, ordinary building that contains —

— a shirtless, half-naked, metal-armed guy at the door.

Somewhere between the pecs and abs and stubble and all that is most definitely not Jane Foster.

"Tell them I'm not home!" yells a familiar voice from inside the apartment. Now THAT sounds more like Jane.

Unable yet to see who is at the front door, uncaring, and really, just refusing to think about it — she hasn't checked her phone, hasn't read her texts in the last ten hours, hasn't even remembered FOOD in that time — because she's in the midst of a book binge. Camped out in the living room, she's made something of a fort out of it, half-huddled under a blanket and stacked with a fortress of tomes all around her. Weird books. Books on magic, books on limbo, books on polymer fiber, books on nano-fabrication, books on neural computational modelling, books on gross human anatomy, and with two laptops opened and two tablets flared on for cross-reference.

Queen Foster, ruler of Castle Nerddom, reads away. Though her concentration falters, because James is /still/ at the door, and why isn't he just closing it already, she has a million things to do and —

— THAT YELL. Jane stares, startled straight, eyes wide. She knows that yell. She KNOWS that yell. Which means. Oh god. Bucky Barnes. Darcy Lewis. HE WON'T SURVIVE HER. "Oh god!" she stutters, trying to get up, tripping on her blanket, knocking over one parapet of books in the process.

Bucky waits patiently in the doorway as Darcy takes one, two, three long moments to just have herself a big old look up and down. People weren't that much different in the forties, so he knows exactly what she's up to, but some things about James Buchanan Barnes haven't changed a whit, and one of those things is that he can be a god damned peacock sometimes. He loved the ladies, and sure knew the ladies loved him.

Of course, he doesn't do that (too much) anymore, because of aforementioned Star-for-Brains, who Darcy eventually gets around to asking after. "Yeah, she's just — " Bucky starts, lifting one hand in apparent readiness to thumb over his shoulder in her general direction —

And then he gets Darcy'd.

Now THIS is way more than a transplant from the 1940s can handle. The ladies Bucky's used to just looked, giggled, and then demurely waited for him to put moves on them. They didn't yell about climbing him like a tree or gloating or tall drinks of PLEASE TAKE ME NOW WHY DIDN'T YOU SNAPCHAT THIS.

Thus it is when Jane finally gets around to rushing for the door, James Buchanan Barnes— war hero, legendary assassin, Winter Soldier— is frozen in the headlights of an oncoming Darcy Lewis train, looking completely poleaxed.

"Is this your INTERN?" he queries, sounding completely scandalized, which is impressive given he's the one who's half-dressed.

"TOO LATE I HEARD YOU NO TAKIE BACKIES!" Darcy yells back the moment Jane tries to tell Metal Arm Solid McYumyumson to say she wasn't home. Taking it as an invitation, Darcy steps forward without the slightest thought that Bucky is going to stop her. Her only thought is along the lines of: "Here, hold this, Beefcake. I've got a Jane to spin-hug."

Darcy's thoughts are out loud much of the time but especially this time. And the words come with her pressing the Starbucks bag into Bucky's chest and then letting go so he either takes it from her or ends up with coffee and doughnuts on his feet. Which might not be a shame of one was in favor of licking things clean. Maybe some of the frothy mocha foam would end up on chest or six-pack.

No sooner than Starbucks is handed over than Darcy is stepping in to straighten Jane up from tumble-trip-fall because she forgot to order her nerd-draw-bridge lowered, and then she hugs her Jane.

Note: Hers. She might have licked Jane on the cheek once. Because that's how you claim a thing. Darcy does not forget these kinds of things.

Darcy also does not forget what Space-Brain looks like when she's flung herself into books and forgotten things like… eating.

"And showering! Fuck me, Jane. When did you EAT last? And I don't mean a shot of all-sorts-of-impupre-thoughts back there. Which, BTW, when the fuck were you going to let me in on THAT little…" Darcy glances over her shoulder at Bucky, and not at his face, "…maybe not so little secret back there? For reals."

Beat of pause.

"Was." Not that her attention to makig Jane remeber important things has diminished at all.

And no sooner does Jane attempt to straighten herself up from her death-by-books near-tumble, and looking well and familiarly in science mode, wearing tights and one of her dorky as hell t-shirts — this one says HYRULE UNIVERSITY — she barely manages a breathless sound before she's swallowed up in a very familiar, very famous Darcy Lewis Hug of Inescapability.

"Oh god, Darcy. I missed you too," she bemoans, doing that limp-cat thing when they're purrito'd against their will, knowing there is nothing left but to accept fate and let the tragedy of life guide them away. It's the front Jane puts up, long-suffering in the face of Darcy's utter Darciness, but even she can't hide how much she's missed the other woman, wrapping her arms around her and giving her a squeeze of hello.

First thing's first. "I'm — I'm sorry I didn't text after. Or call. I had — I had things. Busy things. Things happen," she rambles. "I didn't want you to — I've eaten!" Jane complains, immediately changing tracks while Darcy's FIRST EVER THING is to bring THAT up again. Eating is dumb and wastes time and geniuses don't have enough time as it is, and, and, and —

Let go from the hug, looking a little red-faced, Jane knows she's forgotting something. A very, very important something, that's standing there, half-naked, quiet, and thoroughly scandalized from a drive-by Darcying. Is this your intern?! asks James.

Jane slips him a guilty smile. Was, confirms Darcy, and she nods in agreement. "She sure was. Best in the business. Only applicant in the business. I guess I should introduce you two. James, this is Darcy. She drove me crazy for a while in New Mexico." Her smile quirks wider. "And Darcy, this is — Bucky Barnes." Wait, isn't that a familiar name? A name that goes down in the history books? Has its own Smithsonian exhibit? "Aaaaand, he's… my boyfriend." Her cheeks redden, because she is pretty sure this is the first time she's even said the word aloud.

Bucky does not, in fact, stop Darcy Lewis. It's uncertain if anything can stop Darcy Lewis. Completely baffled— especially when she refers to him as 'Beefcake'— he automatically accepts the bag when it's thrust into his chest, only looking downwards once Hurricane Darcy has long since swept past him.

His features brighten slightly. Oh shit, he loves Starbucks.

— Wait a damn second. No getting distracted, Bucky Barnes. He frowns back up at the tableau of Jane being spin-cycled by her former intern, who has quite a lot of scolding for the good doctor. Like when was Jane planning on revealing this little secret, exactly, and when the hell did Jane last shower, and when the fuck did Jane last eat something that WASN'T you know what—

"Hey," he says, though he doesn't actually sound upset, judging by the fact his voice sounds more amusedly indulgent than aggravated. "I'm standing right here."

Pause. "And my eyes are up here."

He clears his throat. "Anyway, it's probably… my fault she wasn't calling for a while." He means this in the serious, brooding, 'I made her life hell and nearly killed her several times' way, but Darcy is probably going to assume something totally different.

But! He moves forward, offering a hand to shake as introductions are made. "Good to meet you," the inexplicable WWII historical figure says. He doesn't even blink at the boyfriend designation.

"Things?? Come on, Jane! I helped you deal with New Mexicray. You think I can't help you with whatever?" Darcy starts before Jane pulls her right back to the eating thing. Darcy narrows her eyes, frowning almost dangerously. Would be dangerously if not for how she juts out a hip, plants a hand on it and then points two fingers at her eyes. The glasses are new. Darcy usually rocks the black frames. This are red. As red as her bright lips. She's wearing a lot more makeup that she used to. That whole fuck-i-have-to-look-professional-in-the-office thing. Her wrist snaps a turn so that her two fingers are suddenly pointing at Jane, and Darcy wiggles her hand so that the fingers now resemble soul-eating googley eyes. Never underestimate the power of googley eyes. She's about to say more but then Jane is ACTUALLY remembering her manners (Good, Jane. Here's a cookie.) and introducing her to her beau. Darcy turns, smile all warmth and friendly and not at all lustful. Honest! Scout's honor. Not that Darcy was EVER a girl scout, but….

"Yes. Yes, you are. Good for you. And good for your eyes. They're lovely to look at too," Darcy quips, lips smirking into a full on cackle. Just as predicted, Darcy took that SO not the G-rated way. She turns back to Jane, lightly punching her upper arm and winking.

"That's my girl. Tell me you tried that thing I told you about. You know? The one that Erik walked in on us talking about and you went all tomato and he just turned around and walked out?" Darcy asks of Jane, eyes bright like a teen-ager…. from THIS Century. Oh! Hand to shake. Darcy takes it, shaking it.

"Barnes… I feel like I should know this name… Maybe because Jane should have TOLD me ages ago," Darcy turns it back on Janes, ignoring the memory tug. She'll figure it out while distracting everyone so they don't see she's trying to figure it out. A skill honed in many the astrophysist meetings. It's hilarious watching them all drool over a bit of cleavage while Jane tries not to facepalm.

"But, I will forgive you after you shower, change your clothes, and eat some of the goodies I brought for you. There is mocha and a latte and that green tea thing you demanded that one day and some scones and lemon cake. The choco one is for me," Darcy says as she's pushing Jane AWAY from the Starbucks and toward where she guesses the bathroom is.

"Touch it once and die, Boyfriend," Darcy says in an off handed way that could either be completely serious or completely not. She's not packing a holster, but her shoulder bag IS big enough for a handgun. What a terrible place for one…

Whatever 'things' Jane is hinting at but not saying aloud, Darcy's insistence that she could have helped earns a considerable cringe from the scientist. "So- some things," she rambles, "no. It's hard to explain. It —"

Thankfully, fortunately, absolutely not even wanting to begin discussing even vague implications of HYDRA-anything, Jane finds a convenient excuse in Darcy Lewis's gracious introduction with Bucky Barnes. She rolls her eyes up to the ceiling and lets go the gustiest of sighs. "Darcy, you can't sexually harass my boyfriend. James, ignore her. She's /really/ —"

Oh no, the story about Erik and positions and the look on his face, and Jane just buries hers in both of her hands, quietly dying inside. "We're not talking about this," are the only muffled, strangled words that manage to escape her palms. Can the floor please, please, PLEASE just open up and swallow her whole?

But before she can even muster courage, or some kind of excuse that she really needs to get back to her reading, Jane finds herself ushered against her will in an all-too-familiar manner, namely the one that basically kept her ALIVE for all those tunnel-vision months in the New Mexico desert, especially when the data was so much that she couldn't multitask work with more than three hours of sleep. But even she knows enough manners to not kick up a fuss, especially with James here, who she knows is not going to let her live this down even if they both manage to survive Hurricane Darcy —

— she reluctantly backpedals towards the bathroom, frowning over her shoulder, transparently more than a little reluctant to leave poor James, alone and unattended, with a woman that most modern men need an hour of preparation to withstand. Not to mention a transplant from the 1940s. "I'll be five minutes," she promises, more for his assurance. Jane also frowns. "Darcy, you can't threaten to murder my boyfriend either."

Slowly, as time passes, Bucky makes the transition from shocked to puzzled to just plain amused. He's smirking when he shakes Darcy's hand, those eyes she's complimenting alight with the kind of mischief he hasn't been allowed to feel in seventy-two years. Because before the torture, before the deprivation and murder and the Winter Soldier— Bucky Barnes was a rake and an asshole, and he hasn't forgotten how to be either of those things even if these days he's more inclined to brood than flirt.

Still, he has his moments. Like this one: "What thing?" he inquires, when Darcy starts talking about a thing they really ought to try. "I want to know what this thing is."

Does Bucky even know what he is asking for? He might have some idea, but on the other hand there's only so far a 1940s mind can imagine!

His grin broadens as Darcy herds Jane off to engage in basic 'being a human being' activities. Heading towards the small table in the kitchen, he puts down the Starbucks and starts rooting through it. He leaves the mocha, as he's been advised he'll be killed if he takes it. "You know," he says, as he starts taking things out, "I'd been wondering how Jane survived before I got here. Looks like I got my answer."

He really doesn't seem that concerned about Darcy's murder threat, judging by the way he waves absently at Jane in an 'it's fine' gesture.

"If it's any weirder than shooting would-be Gods in the face or random giant man-eating lobsters on the beach, then I will believe your 'too hard to explain'. We'll compare notes after you shower. Ten minutes, because you are going to shave your pits and put on some deodorant, a bra, clean panties — or a thong. What did you do with the red one I got you? If you lost it I will just buy you more. I know where you live and could possibly stalk you if you move. — and pants. Shirts are optional. Boyfriend must not feel left out in the shirtless department," Darcy says, herding Janes with age-old ease, pushing her into the bathroom and closing the door.

"That sounded like a challenge," she states before hte door is closed, looking at Bucky, grinning and giving a conspiratorial wink. "Do you think so, Boyfriend? Total challenge. Which I am accepting. I will stay good and sweet and not harassing for ten minutes minus however long you are in the shower times a factor determined by how clean and fresh you look when you come out to the power of how fast does Bucky's jaw hit floor and eyes bug out when he sees you - completely naked ensures I will leave without a backwards glance and you can call me when you two are done and I will come back so we can shoot the shit."

And with that, the bathroom door is closed so Jane can have some Darcy-less peace for ten minutes. With an almost saunter, Darcy moves back over to the table to drop her bag onto it, revealing the SHILED nametag clipped to her jacket under where the purse had been.

"Make Jane show you. It's a good thing. I've tried it. VERY good thing." Darcy reaches for HER mocha on her way to the kitchen to rummage for something she can make edible to force Jane into eating.

"Yup. Looks like she's been keeping secrets from both of us. Tsk tsk. Jane bad. Where'd you meet and what's your recovery time like?"

What did you do with the red thong I got you?

Bucky, who had started in on the latte because he's an insatiable supersoldier, chokes on the drink. He makes a valiant and mostly-successful effort to cover up the reaction.

A moment later, he's watching with amusement as Darcy maneuvers Jane with the kind of ease that suggests he's found the reason Jane isn't dead despite her incredible absent-mindedness. The door shuts… and Bucky is alone with the dread Lewis. That vague smirk is still hovering on his features— he's probably thinking about naked Jane, since Darcy helpfully painted such a picture— but his blue eyes do flick down to take note of the SHIELD badge on her jacket when it catches the light. He mentally records the information.

"Will do," he says, as Darcy tells him he should make Jane show him, because it's a SUPER good thing. She wanders off into the kitchen and he follows at a vague distance— after, regrettably, finally pulling his shirt back on over his head.

A few questions rapidfire at him. The first gives him distinct pause, the humor disappearing from his features. His gaze averts, his jawline drawing taut, his good humor gone momentarily stark and dead beneath the weight of bad memories. "We met because I was interested in her work," he eventually says, which is objectively true. "We didn't, uh… start off quite in the best way, but things got better."

The second question? He frowns, puzzled. He's not putting it together. His best guess? "Well, I mean, depends how bad the damage I take, but it's definitely way faster than normal." Bucky, no.

Darcy: 1
Bucky: 0
Jane: -400 (Reasons.)

"I like you," Darcy tells Bucky, reaching up to try to give his head one pat on her way past.

Darcy rummages. She's a rummager. +10 on her Rummage score. College life-skill. Pan, quick wash, on stove, find things, yank off jacket to toss on counter, continue cooking something with protien and long-acting carbs. Because working for SHIELD and living with a speedster teaching you things.

"Awesome. She and I met because I wasn't interested in her work. I was interested in the political ramifications of what she found, not what she was actually doing," Darcy is saying before blinking at Bucky, head tilting like WTF? She inhales, because she wants to ask just what kind of freaky sex do THEY have that Jane DAMAGES him when she ends up shaking her head because she PROMISED not to harass. How much longer does she have?

"Well. Glad to hear it's 'faster than normal'. I like that in a partner. 'Faster than-'" There's a lengthy pause before Darcy cranks off the stove to plate the hash she fried up.

"You know what? Not important. I guess I should just be glad she didn't hit you with her car too… or that you're homeless. Are you homeless? Unless she DID hit you with a car? Because then I'd have to have a talk with her and her drooling over ripped homeless guys she assaults with vehicles."

And with that, Darcy christens Bucky with her approval. Score one for Bucky! Though he almost immediately cancels it out. More on that later.

He watches placidly as she rummages about, throwing a pan on the stove after a quick wash and starting to cook something up. He's absolutely useless in the kitchen, so all he really can do is admire the work of those far more proficient. "Political ramifications?" he echoes, interested. "So you're not also a scientist. Is the political shit what you're doing with SHIELD?"

Her reaction to his answer about recovery, though, is emphatically not what he expects. He blinks back at her, confused, up until she says 'in a partner' and everything suddenly makes a horrid sort of sense. "Uh," he corrects hastily, "I meant— well— I thought— recovery as in healing." He hesitates. "Though the answer is still the same. Minus the damage part."

Darcy hesitates too, on that whole 'faster' topic. Bucky notices it, cants his head, but doesn't ask.

She's moving on already anyway, asking if he's homeless and did Jane hit him with her car? "No," he says, baffled. "…I take it this is about Thor." He pauses. "She hit Thor with a car?"

"I didn't /hit/ Thor with a car," Jane announces her return with that fierce rebuttal, striding back in urgently, perhaps aware that her honour is being disparaged in her absence.

Having taken the quickest shower in history, partially because she is certain Darcy Lewis is going to somehow /kill/ her new, ill-prepared boyfriend with an overdose of Darciness (he may have fought in a war but Darcy is something else entirely), and partially because she really needs to get back to her books, Jane returns, dressed differently in jeans and one of her plaid button-downs, her towel-dried, still-damp hair hanging in audacious waves down her shoulders.

She frowns imperiously. "First off, it was a van. And second, technically the first time, he fell into it. Second time, he walked into it. And to answer your /other/ questions, I did not hit James with my car. And he's not homeless!"

And there's one more think she's forgetting. Jane fiercely makes her way back to the kitchen. "And James! Don't answer any of her questions about recovery times!" It's a trap!!

Of course, all of her ranting and complaining and hand-gesturing is all part of a gripe that's skin-deep, Jane falling back to a familiar role of straight man to Darcy's insanity, but she can't quiet help or disguise that little prickle of warmth to return and see, occupying her house, the intern of her past chatting with the guy of her future. Warmth seeps into all the edges of her features, and in the end, Jane can't even pretend exasperation for long. She folds her arms, smiling crookedly to herself, watching with amusement as food gets cooked.

"OK, Darce," she says, "now it's /my/ turn for questions." Was Jane thinking of them all in the shower? She counts off her fingers, so, yes. "Question the first: what the HELL Peter Quill? Question the second: PLEASE tell me you didn't hook up, actually tell me because I WILL kill him — he's DIRTY. Question the third: what the hell are you doing in New York?!"

Jane reappears and Darcy checks the clock on her phone. Deadpan, Darcy ignores the ascertion that Jane didn't hit a guy with the research van.

"I like you, Jane. So I'm going to round up and not sexually harass your boyfriend for two whole minutes. I will set my timer, as Phone is my witness," Darcy states, setting the timer and then putting the phone down to walk around and herd Jane into a chair.

"James, go stand next to her please. Butt comes off chair before food is hand, I will pants the man," Darcy states as she returns tot he kitchen to collect the food.

"First off, too late about the recovery time. I'm only a little jelly. Not really. But I don't want to make you feel completely horrible yet," Darcy quips, setting the plate down on the table in front of Jane and tossing herself sidewise into a chair next to her friend, mocha in hand.

"Answer the First: He was asking about Norse Gods in a bar while I was playing pool with some Derby Girls of mine and then he offered mead back ast his… oh fuck! That's what that was. Ass-guardian bullshit. I should tell Ray. maybe see if Sparky's still answering his phone, get some more," Darcy starts rambling at herself, head nodding as she self-distracts for a bit. But then…

Answer the Second: He's a fucking light weight and I had a boyfriend at the time who I can guarantee has Beefcake McQuickBoner over there look like a 90 year old geeze high on Viagra." Darcy holds up her right hand.

"I swear to fucking Jesus, Jane. Ten seconds.

"Answer the Third: I live here now. Fucking Coulson recruited me, Carter finally gave me back my iPOD three field missions in…." Here's a pause and Darcy pulls off the name badge to hand it over for inspection. Agent Lewis, Darcy. Clearance Level 5.

"I'm a fucking SHIELD Agent, bitch. They gave me a hand gun and a fucking life time supply of tazers. I fucking win at life. Game Over!"

"And I finished my Masters," Darcy adds, like an after thought.

Bucky's head turns immediately to the sound of Jane's voice. "I didn't realize she was talking about THAT kind of recovery time," he defends himself half-heartedly, though he's smiling a little too broadly to be truly taking any kind of offense.

"And I was about to say, it sounds more likely that Thor hit YOUR car, from what I've seen of him," he adds, though he does obey when Darcy bullies him into standing next to Jane, apparently to serve as an impromptu hostage to enforce her eating something. This is not an end to which he objects.

He drinks his latte placidly as the girls sit down and talk shop— though his aplomb suffers a definite stutter at 'Beefcake McQuickBoner.'

"Nothing wrong with 90-something geezers," he mutters to himself.

Darcy goes on to answer all Jane's questions, then, in incredibly colorful ways. James' eyes widen a little. "The last time I heard that much fuck in so few sentences was basic training," he says, amused.

"You are not going to /pants/ my /boyfriend/ in my /own home/, because I'm pretty sure it's illegal or something," Jane complains at length, "and I really need to be going back to my work, I have so much of it, and I'm really not hungry, I ate like…" twenty hours ago, "today."

It's technically "today", but either way, Jane reluctantly sits her ass down at the table, certain that any stubbornness will have Darcy bodyslamming her or, worse, encouraging James to do the same in future scenarios. That's all she needs in her life: regularly scheduled meals or something apocalyptically horrible. "But I'm sitting, I'm sitting," she says anyway, gustily, as if eating a meal is the scientist doing the world its greatest favour.

She tilts back her head to give Bucky a narrow-eyed stare. "If you smile, you encourage her," she grates out dryly, though a crook to her own mouth can't hide her own amusement. Jane pauses. "Also, this Thor definitely would. The one we met was way more squishy. Unworthy, I think it was. Human and no hammer. But he became worthy in the end."

She remains there, curious to hear all of Darcy's answers to her questions, and frankly relieved Quill hasn't put his tiny starlord in or around the former intern. God knows where that man has been. She gives a surprised laugh at the description of Darcy's mysterious former boyfriend, and her spirits stay high, until —

— oh, no. No, no, no. Jane looks on in horror. "Oh, /no/," she bemoans. "No, no, no. Darcy! No! You were recruited by ten-dollar-haircuit smirky-son-of-a-bitch SATAN-in-a-suit professional WORK STEALER? You're at /SHIELD/ now?!" She frowns miserably in that single look of the badge. "Did Coulson blackmail you? He /totally/ blackmailed you. Did he — you have a GUN?"

It's a definitely step up from the taser.

Jane frowns in clear concern. "Have you shot it? Are you shot AT? They're not putting you in dangerous situations, are they? I swear to God, if SHIELD even dares —"

"You're fucking an army-brat?! God damn GI Jane up in his shit. Damn girl. You do me proud. Just need to get you swinging every which way and you'll officially be the hottest fucking Star-Brain on the planet!"

Clearly, Darcy is either being completely honest with 'I don't know who James Bucky Barnes is' or she's dragging it out to trap both into saying something idiotic to try to give her hte intel. Either way, Darcy turns her impish grin on James and in a very serious sounding voice says one thing to him.

"You're absolutely right. Nothing wrong with him save unless they're Super Soliders, their hearts ain't strong enough for the kind of sex Jane and I can rock." She turns to Jane then, smiling oh so sweetly, straw put to roll between lips, clicking against her teeth. Cue timer on her phone.

"Start eating, sweetheart. I've been itching to see not-so-little soldier Jimmy since you had him open the door for you. Wanna see if I'm right that he's not packing briefs under those sweats… or that I can get them down with the pants in one go?" Focus on the halo. The horns are structural support ONLY. She holds the quirked brow even as Jane freaks out about her being in SHIELD, reaching out to pluck her badge back so Jane can't claim distracted

"He did not. They offered a steady paycheck. I've got loans to pay back, thank you very much. And I'm pretty sure I've got clearance now to get most if not all of your research. I can check. But… only if you eat on the regular. Sergent Silverarm here will be given my phone number and I will have him report in. 07, 12, 17 hundred daily. Three fucking square. You'll wish you had an office next to mine. I can cook.

"And yes I've shot it. Shot a fucking would-be God in the face. I've been shot at to. Never been hit. I've got a Ninja Nanny lookking over my shoulder. And SHIELD pays me good, trains me, makes sure I have the gear and the back up I need not to get splattered. I'm working with some really fantastic people on some really fantastic things. I'm trying to help a group of mutants live like everyone else. I'm watching people merge magic and tech. I herd Tony Stark with his CEO Pepper Potts. I coordinate with the UN and all sorts of government branches to get SHIELD authorizations. I'm front line when things go south, and I work side by side with fucking Captain America himself. He hates my fucking language. Jane… I'm helping change the world. I'm making a difference, just like you try to do. And whatever you're reseaching, I bet I've got the resources and the people to help." Has jane ever seen Darcy this focused? This serious, this driven?

Bucky himself seems rather indifferent to whether or not he's going to get pantsed. Perhaps because he knows in advance it's an impending possibility. The real power of pantsing is in its surprise attack factor.

Or perhaps it's just because he hasn't got any particular region of his body that he's ashamed about in the least. He lost all his shame in the war.

"Huh," he does observe. "A human Thor? That's a weird thought. Also, what you ate today was just a single one of those— orange things. What are they called? Cheetos? A Cheeto." She probably found it on the floor underneath a stack of books.

He doesn't stop smiling, by the way. Not, at least, up until Darcy starts to edge into chatter about supersoldiers, at which point he coughs and starts drinking his latte again.

He has no comment on whether he's currently commando or not.

His attention sharpens noticeably, however, when she mentions working with Captain America. Bucky laughs mutedly into his coffee at the comment. "He would," he mumbles, at Cap hating her "fucking" language. Bucky was probably the only exception to Steve's furious campaign against vulgarity, mostly because Steve had already long since realized he had no chance eighty-five years ago.

The clear look of shock freezing Jane's face tells all about swinging every which way. You think all those months alone with the wild, untamed Darcy Lewis would have prepared her, but oh no, even know the woman STILL produces things that leave her stunned cold.

Instead, in terms of oblique references to GIs and supersoldiers and little Jimmys, she gamely eats her food. It's little bites, because Jane Fosters are a grazing sort, with a diet that's mostly half-forgotten bowls of dry cereal.

Or the cheeto Bucky references. Jane gives him a look that could strip the paint off a car, piqued and mortified. He wasn't supposed to see that! And it was on the floor, sure, but not all the WAY under the couch. And she doesn't believe in wasting food. It was still fine!

But she does tie herself into a tiny little knot, transparently fretting, not yet reconciling the memory of her grad student intern with this capable woman who owns a /gun/ and has access to government resources and engages the city's crises on a multitude of levels. It's a natural concern she has, and not a small amount of protectiveness, that keeps Jane frowning, but it seems the more Darcy speaks, the higher her eyebrows rise and rise, as she absorbs it all and realizes —

— OK, it's not at all SHIELD conscripting a woman who saw too much against her own will. It's something else entirely. It's the reality that while /Jane/ was hurting for grant money and sleeping out of her van, Darcy Lewis got her entire life put together amazingly. "I'm… I'm really proud of you, Darcy," she blurts out, honest, and with no small amount of awe. "I hope SHIELD is… I mean, I hope they're good to you. I'm kinda, kinda-sorta contracted with them, but, wow. You're doing amazing things."

She glances over at Bucky's remark about Captain America, and cannot hide her own crooked smile. The thought of poor Steve trying to be G-rated around Darcy…

"First of all, you're /not/ going to get updates about my /diet/ because /I am an adult/. And second?" Jane adds, much more sombre, "I think there's something I think you need to meet, speaking of projects. And resources. And people. Her name is Jessica Jones. I think you two are each other's spirit animals. She's a detective. Really strong. Into the same sorts of things and really connected. I'll make sure to give you her number."

With Jane eating, Darcy relaxes a bit, leaning back a bit and slurping at her coffee.

"Umm. First of all, he can call it in or I can get agents to stalker you. I have that power now Jane. I am Super Intern. You will eat regular meals, get no less that six interrupted hours a night and.. what? You're fucking contracted with. That's it. I'm pulling your file. All this shit is getting charted into the lab. You said spirits? Like magic? Great. My SO heads WAND. I'll get her involved. She'll set you up. Beefcake can have a visitor's pass unless his boyfriend vouches for you," Darcy says, because she had him pegged. Not as pegged as Jane does, but whatever. Pushing up to her feet, Darcy grabs her things.

"I'm going to the office to get things ready for you. All your usual office supplies. If you're a very good girl, I will have your favorite pens there too. You will let me do this for you, Jane Foster. SHIELD owes you. I'm SHIELD now. So I owe you. And…. I missed making you blush. May's a brick w-" There's a flicker of something, like a brief dark cloud passing over the sun, casting a shadow on an other wise perfect day. It's there and gone in a heartbeat.

"She's deadpan." Not what Darcy was going to say. And now there's a tension in her gaze. But she soldiers on.

"Anyway. It'll be great. Fun. You'll love Barry. He's a geek. Worse than you. Eats better though. Has an alarm set on his phoen to remind him. I should see if we can hack your phone and set up an alarm you can't remove." She rambles a bit as she starts for the door.

"You'll have an appointment set. If you miss it, I'm Coulson'ing your appartment and dragging you in," She adds then smiles so pleasantly at Bucky, as if the cloud was never there.

"Great to meet you, James. Pants you next time." And with that Darcy's out hte door and gone.

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