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Darcy loved her Soulmark. As far as she was concerned, it was the best thing ever. It pointed her towards a new hobby, and it gave her an excuse to scandalize her Soulmate (and other people, until she found him). But just a little bit.
Steve was terrified of his Soulmate. But… mostly in a good way.
Darcy didn’t much understand fire drills. Well, she sort of did. She got that it was good to practice, so that if there was a fire, they would know where to go. She got that. But they didn’t want them to behave the way they actually would if there was a fire.
Because, really? “Oh dear, there seems to be a fire inside my classroom. I had better abandon my backpack—because it would take too long to pick it up—and walk in an orderly fashion out of the burning room.”
Darcy thought that was stupid, and she liked to ignore stupid rules. So, when a fire drill came around, she grabbed her stuff and ran, yelling, “Fire!” as she went.
When she got to her class’s appointed place, she sat down and pulled out her knitting.
Darcy was kind of regretting her life choices. She’d said yes when Jeremy asked her to Prom because he was cute and she was kind of flattered, but he’d spent the night trying—and at least he was trying—not to stare at her boobs and failing.
And yeah, he should have better self-control, something for him to work on, but right then he didn’t, and it was annoying. So Darcy, as nicely as she could, told him to go find someone else to dance with.
That caught his attention. She explained again and suggested he get in the habit of looking a girl in the eye when he talked to her.
He started swearing at her and calling her names, absolutely furious that she was unwilling to make herself a sexual object for him to look at and “use”—his word, not hers.
Darcy kneed him in the balls and walked away, leaving him curled up and making pained noises in the middle of the dance floor.
She grabbed her things and called her parents.
While she waited for them to come pick her up, she knitted.
Darcy was washing her hands when the yelling and screaming started. After half a second’s thought, she pulled out her phone.
“911, what’s your emergency?”
“Hello, yes, I’m at the bank, and I’m in the bathroom, but there’s a lot of yelling and screaming out there—in the lobby, I mean. It might not be a robbery, but I’m not checking. So, you might want to send some—okay, that was a gunshot. I’m gonna say that’s a ‘yes’ to the robbery question.” At the operator’s prompting, she gave the bank’s name and location, then ended the call.
She looked around the bathroom, looked at the door for a moment, then shrugged and sat on the counter.
She might as well get some knitting done while she was waiting for the police to show up.
Darcy wasn’t completely sure what was going on. Jack-Booted Thug #3 had shoved her, Jane, and Eric into a room and told them to ‘wait for debriefing.’
Jane was clearly itching to get back to her lab, and Eric was just looking twitchy.
Darcy dug around in her bag until she found a ball of yarn, then pulled two knitting needles out of her hair and got started on a new scarf.
Darcy was looking for Jane. Unfortunately, Jane was looking for someone else, so she kept finding the places Jane had just left. But, judging by the yelling she could hear coming from inside, she had finally found the correct office.
Sure enough, there was Jane, yelling at a man with an eyepatch. And off to the side… was that the Black Widow? And Tony Stark?
Stark glanced at her, gave her an appreciative once-over (which Darcy did not appreciate), then went back to gleefully watching Jane and Captain Eyepatch yelling at each other.
Romanov looked a bit longer, then looked away dismissively. Darcy was offended for half a second before she remembered—Black Widow. Yeah, she’d dismiss her, too.
Jane seemed to be enjoying herself, so Darcy sat against a wall and pulled out her knitting.
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see that Romanov was looking at her again; a glance showed that the look was amused, and slightly intrigued. Stark was looking between her and Captain Eyepatch, looking for all the world like he couldn’t decide which spectacle he should be watching.
Darcy continued counting stitches.
She was at a tricky part in the pattern when Captain Eyepatch fell silent mid-sentence, so she didn’t look up from her needles. He walked around his desk and stood next to her. Loomed over her, really. Just for that—and, again, still on a tricky part—Darcy kept her eyes on her work. “Something I can help you with, Captain Eyepatch?”
Based on the sounds, Jane had slapped her forehead and Stark had choked, then said, “Oh, I like her!”
“Who the hell are you? And why the hell are you knitting in my office?”
Darcy held up a finger. “Just a sec…” she said, and finished the row. With a nod, she wrapped up the excess yarn and stood. “Ooh, you’ve got a vein-thingy on your temple. I didn’t know that could happen in real life. You should probably see a doctor or something.”
He growled. Actually growled!
“Chill out, dude. To answer your questions, I’m Darcy Lewis, Scientist Wrangler extraordinaire. I’m in your office because I was looking for wayward scientists, and I was knitting because you were busy yelling at each other.” She paused thoughtfully, then added, “Also, I find it amusing to knit at somewhat inappropriate times.”
Stark spoke up. “Hey, I’m a wayward scientist! You want to come work for me?”
Darcy thought about this—in particular, she thought about how frustrating she and Jane found working at SHIELD. “Can Jane come, too?”
“Sure, why not? I’m sure there’s something we need an astrophysicist for.”
“Wha—Darcy! You can’t just—!”
“Jane. No more SHIELD. That means no more fifty page NDAs in triplicate, no more, ‘Nope, can’t publish that, either,’ no more clumsy jack-booted babysitters in your lab all the time, and no more horrible coffee.” She paused and turned to Stark. “You do have good coffee around your labs, don’t you?”
He looked offended that she’d even asked. “Of course!”
“There, Jane, you see?”
Jane’s giant brain processed this and she nodded. “Where do I sign?”
Natasha had adopted Darcy. Darcy wasn’t sure why, but she usually thought it was a good thing.
They bonded over nail polish, bras, and vodka.
Natasha offered to teach Darcy how to fight.
Darcy offered to teach Natasha how to knit.
They both said yes.
Darcy had cleaned herself off as well as she could—particularly her hands—and was trying not to think too much about the scene that was only twenty feet away. Amazingly, her yarn and current project had managed to escape the mess unscathed. She knew that her “rescue”—they were mostly her ride at this point—was on its way; all that was left to do was wait. And so, she did what she always did: she pulled out her knitting.
She had to be extra careful, though, not to get any dirt or blood on the yarn. Or tears. But at least those wouldn’t stain.
Her hands were shaking. She didn’t know how many times she’d accidentally dropped half a dozen stitches.
It was after dark before her “rescuers” arrived. She didn’t look up from her knitting until she finished the row.
Natasha was smirking, Clint was grinning, and—huh. The third member of their group, Captain America, had dropped his shield and was staring at her with his mouth hanging open.
Seconds before he spoke, she knew. And sure enough—
“Are you—Are you knitting? At a time like this?”
“Well, Christmas is right around the corner, and knitted gifts take time. Anyway, take a closer look at the holes in the bad guys—knitting needles make fantastic weapons.”
“Like ice picks, but without the handles,” Natasha agreed sagely.
Captain America—she should probably start calling him Steve, at least in her head—looked between her and Natasha. “You two are friends, aren’t you? This explains so much.”
“Yes, but that’s not the important question,” Darcy said. “The important question is, does my Soulmate want a hat, a scarf, a pair of socks, or some mittens? Or gloves. I can do gloves, if you’re not a mitten guy. I could also make you a sweater, if you want, but it won’t be done in time for Christmas.”
“You don’t have to—”
“Wait, does that mean you two are—”
Natasha clapped a hand over Clint’s mouth and started dragging him back to the quinjet; Darcy nodded at her, but otherwise ignored the byplay.
“I know I don’t have to; that’s why it’s a gift, not a friendship fee. I want to. It’s how I show that I care. Not that I really, truly, personally care for you yet, but I’m hoping I will by Christmas.”
“Caring by Christmas?” He smiled at her. “I think we can do that.”
She smiled back and stood, trying to ignore the fact that there were bodies on the ground behind her.
Darcy hated getting kidnapped. As far as she was concerned, it was the worst thing ever. Still, she was pretty awesome, and thanks to Nat, she knew how to be a self-rescuing princess.
Steve was still terrified of his Soulmate. After all, she was best friends with the Black Widow and she carried metal knitting needles with her wherever she went. But she mostly used them to make warm, knitted gifts for the people she cared about—and she was the sort of person who could care about anyone.
She cared about him.
He cared about her, too. He was falling in love with her. And that terrified him.
But it was definitely in a good way.