#ficletoftheday

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know,” Penelope replied, her voice gaining speed the longer she talked. “It’s mine too. This explains why you kept reminding me. Are you telling me that was for real and not just our usual flirty banter? Because as much as I would love to have dinner with you, I was not being serious. I wouldn’t ever demand something like that from you, babe. I wouldn’t have asked you that way.”

He let out a sound that was almost a laugh. But it wasn’t. Because this wasn’t exactly a laughing matter. “I know you wouldn’t. I wouldn’t have made plans if I thought you were making demands. I thought it was more of a nudge.”

“A nudge? Derek. I don’t nudge. I flat out say what I want.”

“Do you, though?”

She scoffed. “Yes! Oh my Binary, have you ever known me to be cryptic?”

Derek’s stomach dropped. “No, you’re a lot of things, but definitely not cryptic. Did I read this wrong? If I did, I can bow out gracefully, Penelope. I don’t want to ruin what we have.”

“Read what wrong?!” she asked.

“I’m really sorry,” he began.

“No, wait. Read what wrong? Are you saying there was even the tiniest tinge of truth in all our flirting?”

“Are you saying there wasn’t?” He pulled into a parking spot outside her building and let the car idle.

“No! I’m definitely not saying that. I’m just surprised is all.”

“Surprised why?”

“I dunno, D. Maybe because you don’t beat around the bush either. And this entire thing feels like we’re both hitting that shrub within an inch of its life.”

He sighed. “Okay, so what do you want to do? Want me to keep driving so we can keep talking?”

“Well, we clearly need to talk. But we do so much of it on the phone. I want you to come over here and cook me dinner. And then we can talk.”

He laughed outright at that. “What do you have in your kitchen?”

“Enough, just get over here.”

“I’ve been out front for a few minutes now,” he laughed.

“Then get up here, Morgan.”

“Oh, you’re last-naming me now. Sounds serious. It’s on, then?”

“Oh it’s on, D. I mean, Morgan.”

“Bring it, Garcia.”

“I mean, technically, you’re bringing it, because you’re the one coming to me.”

Blowing out a puff of air, she stuck her tongue out at her reflection and reached up to gingerly touch and attempt to tame the mess.

It was unbearably humid. That was to blame.

But Draco had assured her that he adored her hair, and had even spent the better part of last night with his fingers in it.

Perhaps it would endear her to him a bit more when she had to break the news that she’d gone off and run her big mouth.

There was a crack in the living room, and she heard him call. “Hullo?”

“I’ll be right there!” she called.

She washed her hands and mumbled a quick little drying charm before going to join him.

Draco was looking as put together as he ever did. His hair was perfect, his clothing as well. And his face split into one of her favourite smiles when he saw her.

“Your hair is absolutely… Granger.”

“Is it absolutely me, or just absolutely?” she asked.

“Both,” he replied, reaching for her and tugging her close. “Come here, I missed you.”

“Missed you too,” she replied, tilting her head up to kiss him.  “Draco, I--”

“I have something to confess, I’m afraid,” he began.

“Oh?” she asked, her eyebrows raising and something akin to panic began to bloom in her belly. “You do?”

“Relax, it’s nothing awful. I just… talking about you today.”

Pressing her lips together tightly to hide her smile, she inhaled and exhaled before replying. “Oh?”

“Yeah. To Zabini and Nott.” He shrugged. “Apparently, this is harder to keep under wraps than I thought… I could practically write your name in the stars, Granger.”

Her smile broke through then and she started to laugh.

“What? Don’t tell me you find me too silly now?”

“Not nearly… although I do find you incredibly silly, Malfoy.”

It was his turn to exclaim. “Oh?”

“Quite.  But not to worry, I also sort of blabbed about us today as well.”

“Did you? To whom? Don’t tell me it was Potter--”

“Oh no, not yet. It was Ginny.”

“Hermione…” he began. “Ginny’s technically a Potter. If you told her, I can expect a howler from her loving husband any second now. Ah well, I suppose it’ll be worth it.”

Hermione couldn’t help but beam at the thought. “A howler’s worth it?”

“Should I define the word for you, darling?” he asked sweetly, his voice dripping with saccharine..

“It’s called a pun, sweetie-pie,” she retorted, batting her eyelashes. “A play on words? Do you have puns on Asgard? You’ve traveled the entire universe, haven’t you? Don’t tell me there aren’t puns somewhere.”

“There are puns. Excuse me for not recognizing it. I’m used to intelligent, coherent ones.”

“Ha! Got you. There is no such thing as a coherent pun.”

“A likely argument from someone who’s never made a coherent pun in her life,” he shot back.

“Offense, sir. I take pride on my punnery.”

“Get thee to a punnery,” he countered, arching an eyebrow. “Behold. A coherent, yet intelligent pun.”

She scoffed. “Barely.”

“I believe it still counts though.”

“Counts like your face,” she muttered.

Loki laughed aloud. “Could it be that I’ve bested you? The great Darcy Lewis, who bested my own brother in combat?”

“I bested your brother with a gun that shoots electricity. You don’t have to be smart or coherent to wield one of those, Lokes.” It sounded like a threat, and the flash in her eyes certainly felt threatening.

“I never said you weren’t smart,” he reminded her.

“Fine, intelligent.”

“I never said that either.”

“Said what?”

“That you weren’t intelligent.”

She didn’t answer, simply swung her legs on the , and looked intently at her phone.

“Darcy…” he ventured, moving a bit closer. “Darcy? Darling, I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings.”

“That isn’t an apology.”

Loki huffed indignantly. “It is too. I said I was sorry.”

“You said you were sorry if you hurt my feelings. Which puts the labor on me to forgive you, and you can sidestep the bigger issue at hand.”

“Which is?”

“That you called Frankenstein’s monster ‘Frankenstein’ and fucked up royally.” She grinned in a very self-assured way. Loki pressed his lips together and shook his head, all the while, she tittered proudly every so often.

“It was a mistake,” he began.

“Still said it.”

“A slip of the tongue.”

She waggled her eyebrows and winked. “I’ll show you a slip of the tongue.”

He chuckled. “Oh really? Please do.”

“What?” she asked.

“Show me a slip of the tongue, Darcy.”

“Can I embroider that on a pillow?” she asked, hopping up from the stool and making as if she was about to leave. There was no way Loki was allowing her to leave after dropping a flirtatious bomb in the room.  He’d let her do it too many times before not to demand an explanation now.

“Show me a slip of the tongue,” he said.

“Really?” she asked.

“Really.”

“It’s okay if I show you?”

“I’m asking,” he countered.

“Okay. You asked for it.”

“I already insisted that I--” He stopped talking abruptly as Darcy kissed him and thus succeeded in both showing him a slip of the tongue and shutting him up all in one go.

Besides, he’d gotten them dinner reservations at their favorite Quidditch bar.  Usually, they didn’t have to get reservations, but since it was Valentine’s, Blaise had figured it was better safe than sorry.

She drummed her fingers on her forearm where she had both arms folded over her middle.

A small whining sound drew her attention.

She glanced down in the direction of the sound, immediately falling to her knees beside what looked like the saddest dog she’d ever seen. Her heart felt as if it was cracking open, old wounds from their previous dog’s passing combined with the desire to help this one all rolled up into one big leaking mess.

“Oh no, puppers!” she cooed, her voice immediately taking on that tone that most people reserved for newborn babies.

The dog was shaking, and it had matted fur. There was no collar, which was no big surprise, given the state he was in. “Oh baby, I won’t hurt you,” she murmured, holding out her hand and nearly bursting into tears when the dog flinched but moved shakily toward her.

Blaise apparated back with a pop, and the dog cowered.

“What-- where--” he spotted Ginny kneeling, and promptly took stock of the situation, dropping to a crouch beside her. “Who’s that?”

“A scared stray, I think…” she held her hand steady in front of her, and presently, the dog moved towards her and sniffed her hand. It then tilted and allowed her to pet it behind the ears.

“What do you want to do?” Blaise asked.

“What do you think?” she asked.

“I was hoping you’d say that. I think Harvey’s stuff is still up there in the closet.”

She shot him a smile. “Don’t apparate, it scares the puppy.”

Harvey had been gone for almost a year. And after he’d passed on, Ginny didn’t think she’d ever be able to open her heart up for any more animals. But the second she saw this shaking little mess in the alley, she knew.

She’d just had to heal a bit.

It took very little to coax the quivering pile of mats and bones into her arms, and as the dog seemed to collapse against her, she and Blaise made their way back up to their apartment.

Why does the dog howl at the moon?

The issue she usually ran into was the odd person trying to explain off the top of their head the nature of those fluffy examples of the canine persuasion. But people who did that (Bruce included) weren’t actually answering the right question.

It wasn’t “Why do dogs howl at the moon?”, it was “Why does the dog howl at the moon?” More of a theoretical opening for a lively debate than anything else.

If someone wasn’t trying to school her on the biology of dogs, then they usually figured out it was her soulmate question and gave her a sad smile and a small shake of their head.

When Captain America himself, Steve Rogers, brought his BFF in to formally meet everyone, she was expecting a couple of confused looks once again.  She’d seen Steve around, but hadn’t ever gotten around to asking him her question because in what universe was she that lucky? Same went for his Buff Friend Forever, James Barnes. If anything, dude was hotter than Cap. And that was saying something.

When Steve and James approached her work station, the former held out his hand tentatively. “Hi, Darcy is it? I’ve seen you, but we’ve never actually met. I’m Steve.”

She smiled sweetly and accepted his hand. Bucky was next, but he didn’t offer his hand, he kept both of them folded in front of him as he nodded to her in greeting. “Darcy.”

“Barnes,” she nodded in reply. “Hey, do you guys mind if I ask you a random question?”

Steve chuckled. “Not at all.”

James merely shrugged.

“Why does the dog howl at the moon?”

Steve chuckled softly, shaking his head, but James blurted out an answer so sarcastically nonsensical, it almost didn’t sound real.

“Because he knows the dark side is made of cheese, and the dog’s lactose intolerant, therefore, the moon is a threat.”

Darcy’s mouth hung open and she stared over at him.

James’ mouth quirked up in the corner. “I take it that was the right response?”

She nodded slowly and pretended not to notice Steve trying to stifle a grin as he stepped away from his friend. How he then shot Jane and Tony a look.

“Don’t be so obvious, Stevie,” James quipped, relaxing his stance. He tilted his head towards his now red-faced friend. “Someone around here thought one of use might answer your question, but I promise. That answer was genuine.”

She smiled, flashing her teeth before looking down at her hands. 

"I’ve got a question for you, too,” James began.

“Shoot,” she said, beaming.

“Why’d the chicken cross the road?”

Her grin widening, she replied. “The chicken’s an Old God and the road is relatively new. The chicken’s always travelled that way and isn’t letting a road stop her. So the answer is ‘because you can’t teach an Old God new tricks’.”

“Hot damn,” James murmured.

“I have some follow up questions for you if you’ve got time.”

His smile lit up his entire face. “Sweetheart, for you, I’ve got nothing but.”