Archive of Our Own ^beta

Every year, SHIELD closed off an upscale bar in lower Manhattan and invited field agents, lab researchers, and a certain team of super-powered individuals. It was the first, and probably the last time Darcy Lewis would be invited to the SHIELD Christmas party.

She’d begun work not more than a year ago as the lab assistant to Bruce Banner, with whom she’d become smitten, though she would feverishly deny it to anyone who asked. She knew it was against SHIELD policy, and the boss would never feel the same way for her. Still, if her best friend could make it work with a Norse alien, then maybe she and Big Green stood a chance.

-

The bar rumbled with the sound of music and laughter as agents and workers mingled at the bar, on the dance floor, and in the booths. Darcy bounded in wearing a stunning red number which she would have been taken seriously in if it weren’t for the felt reindeer antlers perched atop her head. “Don’t worry, Janie, I brought a pair for you too!” she exclaimed as the tugged the headband onto her best friend.

“Thanks, Darce,” Jane smiled, giving her friend an awkward hug. The petite astrophysicist and Thor had gotten married some time ago, and they were now expecting their first child in a few short months.

Giving her best friend’s rounded belly a pat, Darcy grinned and looked around the bar. “Too much eggnog? I’m kidding. I haven’t seen Bruce anywhere, is he here tonight?”

She didn’t even wait for Jane to shrug a response before she trotted off in the direction of the bar. Thor had gotten Fury’s clearance to bring a keg of Asgardian mead, which the agents had enjoyed so much at his wedding. A slightly exasperated Pepper stood next to Tony, who was tossing back drinks faster than you could say “genius billionaire playboy philanthropist”, while Steve was being cornered by no less than 5 giggling female interns. Still no Bruce.

That was, until she spotted him sandwiched between the two master assassins sitting at a table. Natasha wore a devilish grin on her face as Clint poked the doctor in the ribs. As Darcy sped over to rescue her boss, she caught the tail end of an accusing, “…the assistant, huh?” from the archer.

Whatever he was saying was cut short, though, when Darcy blurted, “Uh, Bruce? I need to speak with you about some of the lab equipment, yeah?” Then, as if he couldn’t have been saved at a better time, Bruce bid an awkward goodbye to the assassins and followed his assistant to the quietest corner of the bar. He rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and pushed his glasses up his nose before stammering, “You, uh, look nice tonight. So, what was the situation with the lab?”

“You dummy, there is no situation,” Darcy said, giving his nose a flick. “You just looked like you needed some saving… And, thanks. I picked this dress out myself. Like the antlers?” She gave a modest twirl and then straightened up, realizing that flirting with her boss was definitely not allowed, whether or not he recognized it as such. Bruce simply laughed and adjusted the collar of his shirt. After an awkward pause, Darcy offered, “Hey, want to go grab a couple of drinks, boss man?”

Bruce shook his head and declined politely. “I don’t think drinking would be a good idea here, especially since the, uh… Other Guy wasn’t invited.” Then, with a sad smile, he excused himself to the washroom and left Darcy standing by herself. In fact, she didn’t see him for most of the rest of the evening. She fluttered from the bar, drink in hand, to Jane’s table, then to the dance floor, and followed that pattern for a solid few hours, all without catching sight of Bruce again.

-

Thor walked Jane home at about 1am, since that was about all her little self could handle. She gave Darcy a kiss on the cheek and then departed with her husband, who was lovingly holding her shoulder with one hand and her stomach with another.

With Thor gone, some of the junior agents realized there was no one guarding his keg of Asgardian booze, so they figured it was theirs for the taking. One of them, the leader of this brat pack, no older than 19, had kept his eye on Darcy all evening. He hooked his arm around hers and as suavely as he could he introduced himself.

“Hey, babe. The name’s Cameron, remember it when you’re screaming it later tonight.”

Darcy gagged. “Oh yuck, why? Do you need a babysitter? “

Cameron didn’t like this very much. Instead, he swung himself and the reluctant young woman in the direction of the unguarded mead. “Bet you couldn’t take me on in a drinking contest,” he taunted. “Come on, Asgard’s finest.”

Darcy rolled her eyes and tried to remove herself from the situation, but soon found a sparkling golden drink in her hand and a wall of young men egging her on. “Oh, you’re going to regret this,” she promised, remembering the taser she kept in her bra in case anything got bad. Bruce might not want a drink, but what’s stopping me, she asked herself, not bitter in the slightest. Not Bruce, that’s who.

The two of them were pretty evenly matched, shot for shot of the Asgardian ambrosia. When he had brought the stuff, Thor advised the mortals to take it in moderation, since this was potent enough to put Volstagg the Voluminous to sleep before too long.

Darcy could feel the room spinning a little, and then there was a hand on her inner thigh. She dropped her drink and grabbed Cameron’s wrist as hard as she could. “Paws off,” she hiccupped. But the other boys didn’t like this- one of them grabbed her by the hips and she elbowed him in the gut. “I said, hands off, boys,” she repeated, a bit louder this time.

Without hesitation, Darcy reached into her bra and clumsily fumbled with the taser, pulling it out and brandishing it at the boys. “Don’t touch me, I once took down a Norse god in the desert with this thing.” She blinked heavily several times, her vision off-focus. A gentle hand found its way to her shoulder and she spun around angrily. “I swear I’ll use this!”

But the hand didn’t belong to any one of the junior agents. Through the haze, she could just barely make out the familiar glint of Bruce’s thick spectacles before he hastily ran out of the bar and was out of sight once again. Darcy cursed under her breath and stumbled out after him.

Outside, she couldn’t find him, but she looked up and down the street before giving up and leaning against the wall to cry. Another hand found its way to her shoulder and she snapped her head up and began to apologize profusely. “Bruce, I’m sorry abo-”

But it wasn’t Bruce. It was Steve, who smiled pleasantly down at her and hushed her. “Darcy, I’m going to walk you home, okay? You’re in no state to be out here much longer. Let’s get you to bed.” With a sniffle, Darcy nodded and followed Steve back to Stark Tower.

-

At about noon the next day, Darcy rolled over in her bed, eyes shut tight and head throbbing. Her hand felt around the bedside table for her phone, which buzzed incessantly. She peeled one eye open, the light on her phone brighter than the sun itself.

“Stupid Asgard, stupid hangover…” she grumbled as she read ‘3 new texts’ flashing on her screen. All of them were from Bruce.

[U awake?]

[Hey, can I see you in the lab when you get this?]

[Darcy, I need to see you about some lab equipment.]

Practically rolling out of bed, she threw on a bathrobe and fuzzy pink slippers over her pajamas and cradled her aching head as she shuffled down to the lab to talk with Bruce.

[Omn my wayyy] She typed lazily, the screen a little off-focus in her field of vision. Whatever, Bruce would get the message all the same.

-

“You needed to see me, boss?” she yawned. Darcy knew she looked like hell, but she didn’t care. If he was going to fire her for being a bad assistant or for threatening him with the active end of a taser, she might as well be comfortable in her jammies. “There was a situation with the lab equipment?”

Bruce turned around from his desk and smiled. “There was no situation, silly. You just looked like you needed some saving.” He rubbed his knuckles nervously and continued, “Sorry I couldn’t help you last night, I saw those guys giving you trouble.”

“I could’a handled it,” Darcy sniffed. “Besides, I could have hurt you by accident.”

The doctor shook his head. “But I could have hurt you worse if we weren’t careful.”

Darcy cleared her throat and tried to avoid his gaze. She failed at it, big time. But there were no words. She couldn’t think of anything to say to excuse her behavior last night. “Bruce, look-”

“You know,” he interrupted, “The Other Guy, he… he likes you. And I do too. I care a lot about you, Darcy Lewis, and I don’t know if you know that or not, but it’s true. I love you, Darcy.” And before Darcy had the chance to say anything more, Bruce pressed his lips to hers in a timid, chaste kiss. She pressed back hungrily, ignoring the pounding in her skull.

When their lips parted, just enough that Darcy could still feel his warmth, she smiled. With a gentle flick on the nose, she whispered back to him, “Well, of course I love you too, you dummy.”