#georgiagirlagain

I didn’t make it to smut but I hope you still like it! If you squint this could be later on in the Birds and Bees verse but it really doesn’t need the context. 

Pairing: Darcy Lewis/Logan (Wolverine)

Rating: T

“Darce, you coulda joined me,” Logan said, stepping out of the shower (dripping all over her tiles even though the mat was right there two feet over) and staring at the bubble bath that was filling up her tub.

She raised her right eyebrow at him. “This isn’t for me. Well not just for me.”

He wrinkled his nose at the tub, or more likely the bubbles. “I just showered.”

“Bubble baths aren’t for getting clean, they’re for relaxing,” Darcy argued. “And anyway there was no way I was letting you fill up a tub full of water with all that grease and blood and soot you had on you. Now get your ass in the tub.”

Logan stood there, naked (and dripping on her floor), studying her for a long minute. “You gonna wash my back?” he asked, grinning.

“I am yeah,” she said, because he was teasing and she was not. “And if the Professor or anyone calls for the next twenty-four hours I am going to tell them to ‘fuck off and see you on Tuesday.’”

“Darce,” Logan huffed.

“Logan, get in the tub.”

His eyebrows bounced up at her tone but he was crossing past her and brushing at the bubbles on the surface of the water like he could make them move to their side of the tub while he sat in his own, more manly, side.

“No candles,” he grumbled.

She rolled her eyes but she was turning to grab a clean washcloth so at least he couldn’t see it.

“‘M alright, you know?” he said, watching her as she sat on the ledge and dipped the cloth in the water. He leaned forward and Darcy ran it down his spine. “No scratches,” he teased. “Don’t gotta nurse me.”

Right. Because with all that blood he’d been covered in, she was supposed to believe none of it was his. Like she didn’t know he had waited long enough to heal before coming home.

“Has it occurred to you that this is as much for me, as it is for you?” she asked, quiet. She could feel his eyes on her face, watching her over his shoulder as she stroked his back with the wet fabric, finding the faint pink mark of a scratch, Logan, you lying idiot. To be fair, he probably didn’t even know about that one.

“Know what would make me feel good, right now?” he asked.

“Hmm?”

“Having you cozied up to me in these damn bubbles.”

She snorted and ignored him for a moment, washing at his shoulders. But he kept staring at her.

“Alright,” she said. She handed him the washcloth and stood up, stripping efficiently.

He’d moved to the far side of the tub by the time she was finished. She stepped into the warm water and fitted herself along his side, their bodies over-lapping and his arms going around her waist.

“‘M alright,” he repeated into her hair.

“I know,” she said. In all likelihood, Logan would always be alright. But that didn’t mean she liked seeing the evidence of exactly how much abuse he could take.

“I…do like when you take care of me,” he said. She tried not to laugh at the way the words seemed to cost him. “But I prefer takin’ care of you.”

His hand slid lower on her belly and she raised her arms to loop behind his neck. She wasn’t quite there yet, still a little jittery from watching him walk into their apartment looking like a crash scene. But Logan had a surprising tendency to work her up so slow and gentle so that she barely noticed the transition between lazy-calm-comfort to aching-need.

She found the washcloth floating under the bubbles and lifted it to wash down his arms.

“Kinda hope Charles calls,” Logan said and she twisted to show him her frown. “Just wanna hear you go off on him. He still thinks you’re all cute.”

“I am cute,” she said, snapping her teeth on his chin.

Well, this is officially the longest one. many thanks to @paranoidwino for making sure my Tony was up to par. ❤️❤️❤️

Darcy was embarrassed to admit it, but she was probably the last person in the Tower to know. Sure, she’d noticed that he seemed to be calling her into his workshop more and more. It was always “Hold this, Double D,” or “Help me out with that, Short Stack.” But honestly, she’d spent the whole time thinking that Tony was finally growing up, learning how to ask for help. And if he regularly neglected to fill out his paperwork, forcing her to chase him down and cajole him into doing it, well. He was still Tony. There was only so much growing up he would do.

But everyone seemed to be laughing at her.

Jane regularly cackled when Tony would holler her name from the adjoining lab space or texted and called her incessantly to pester her into helping him with something. To be honest, Darcy brushed off her best friend’s reaction; Jane knew about the epic-sized crush that Darcy harbored for the reckless superhero. And like a true sister, she regularly mocked her friend’s discomfort. Which was fine, because Darcy always got her back by mimicking Jane’s starry-eyed gaze whenever she looked at Thor. That’s what they did—they pushed and they pulled and poked and prodded and absolutely nothing was off-limits.

But she did start to notice when all of a sudden every other Avenger seemed to find a reason to come by the labs. Thor was normal—he only ever had eyes for Jane. But then Bruce would stop by every now and then with a question for Jane, always with that shy, secretive smile on his face. And Nat suddenly perched on the edge of Darcy’s desk for hours at a time, ostensibly for no reason at all. She always smiled like a cat who’d gotten the cream, which was somehow both terrifying and hot.

Clint popped out of the vents regularly with a shit-eating grin on his face, making Jane and Darcy jump. They started a game to see how fast Darcy could pelt him with a crumpled-up piece of paper. Her record was 1.5 seconds; Darcy had always been good at whack-a-mole. And even Steve started coming by, albeit only after particularly frustrating conversations with Tony. He would come in, be polite, give Darcy his patented ‘Captain America is disappointed in you’ expression, and leave. It was all very strange.

In hindsight, she’d been pretty dumb about the whole thing.

It all finally fell to pieces when Tony pulled her into his office on a Friday evening, right when she was finally leaving the lab. She was grumpy and tired, and all she really wanted to do was fall face-first into her bed and not leave it until Monday morning, but she stepped into his workshop anyway. He didn’t even look up from the machinery he was fiddling with.

“There’s a takeout menu on the bench over there,” he said with a distracted wave of his hand, still not looking up. “I want the pad thai, extra spicy. Get whatever you want.”

She stared at him, dumbfounded, without saying a word. He finally looked up. “What? I know you like Thai food, Darcy. It’s not that hard.”

Enough was enough. “You’re right,” she said, low and venomous. “It’s not that hard, so you can get your fucking food yourself, Tony.” And walked out.

She went home in a daze, feeling crushed and small. Darcy had thought he’d seen her as somebody with value and intelligence, but clearly not. Her phone started ringing within an hour of her collapsing on the couch. It was Tony, so she ignored it. Then Nat called, and Tony again. Right when she was about to put her phone on silent, it vibrated again. It was Jane, so she picked up.

“What happened?” her best friend asked without preamble. Darcy told her everything, up to and including the fact that she was sitting on her couch bingeing ice cream. “Oh, Darce,” Jane said sympathetically. She hesitated, then asked, “Can I come over?”

“Can you come over and not talk about it?” Darcy asked shrewdly.

There was a huff and then her best friend confessed, “Probably not.”

“Then no offense, but I’d rather be alone tonight.”

There was a pause, like Jane wanted to say something else. “Okay, Darce. See you Monday?”

“See you Monday. Love you, Janie.”

“Love you too, Darce.”

After that, Darcy did turn her phone on silent. The weekend passed without any further incident; she cleaned her apartment, went to the gym, and generally tried not to think about how hurt she was, with mixed results. And on Monday, she went back to work.

None of the Avengers stopped by the lab for the next several days, which stung. She thought they’d been her friends, too. The following Friday, Steve walked into the lab with a grave expression. Offering a tentative smile, he asked, “Hey Darcy, Jane. Darce, can I talk to you for a second?”

“Sure,” she replied. Jane was already on her way out the door.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Steve said, “but the issue isn’t going to resolve itself anytime soon. Tony is moping and miserable and clearly not ready to try and fix things with you.” He rubbed a tired hand over his face, then looked up and met her gaze. “And it’s affecting the team.”

When she opened her mouth to argue, he rushed to add, “And I know that’s not your fault, Darce. Sorry, I’m just trying to explain why I’m saying anything at all. And I hope you’ll hear me out.”

If the disappointed expression was bad, the earnest expression was even worse. Darcy leaned back in her chair and nodded, sighing in defeat. “Tony was trying, in his strange, dysfunctional way, to ask you on a date.”

No. She didn’t say it out loud, just mouthing the word, but Steve responded anyway. “Yeah,” he said. And everything clicked into place.

“Please excuse me, Steve. I have someone to go beat the shit out of.” He grinned in relief, and then she was gone.

Tony was in his workshop. For once, no music was blaring, so she knew he heard her approach. His shoulders raised defensively around his ears, but he didn’t look at her. There were dark bruises under his eyes, like he hadn’t slept in days.

“Do you have something you want to tell me?” she asked, when it became clear that he wasn’t going to talk first.

“No,” he said shortly, punctuating the word with a loud bang on the metal in front of him. With a wrench, which clearly wasn’t even the right tool to be using.

This was not the right tactic, obviously. “Tony,” she said, softly. Pleading for him to look up. He didn’t, and she sighed and turned on her heel to leave. She’d have to tell Steve she tried.

“It was supposed to be a date,” he exploded, and she paused. When she turned back around, he said, “I do respect you. It wasn’t a—a—demand for you to lower yourself or anything. I respect you,” he said, finally meeting her eyes. He looked hurt, too. What a pair they were, she thought.

She smiled for the first time, and his face lit with hope. She stepped closer, and teased, “Normal people just ask someone out on a date, Tony.”

“Pfft,” he said, tossing the wrench onto the work table and stalking in her direction. “Normal is boring.” She rolled her eyes, smile still stretched across her face.

“Besides,” he said, waggling his eyebrows as his gaze dropped to her mouth, “you like me the way I am.” There was a slight uplift to his tone at the end, as if he was asking, not stating.

She had no problem telling him the truth. “Thor help me,” she said, reaching for him. “I really do.”

Their lips met in a sweet, tentative kiss. He held his hands away from her body, but she didn’t care about getting grease on her clothes, so she tugged him closer. Her mouth opened under his, and they were swept away with the release of feelings that had been building between them for months. His tongue was skilled but tender, stoking a flame of desire in her belly that simmered slowly. She clutched him to her as they both got swept away in the feeling. When the need for air grew too strong, they finally broke apart. His forehead pressed against hers and they just stood there for a long moment, eyes still closed as they savored the aftermath of their first kiss.

“I hope you don’t say Thor’s name in bed,” he joked weakly, a breath of a chuckle drifting across her lips.

She pulled away, but only far enough to grab his hand. “I guess you’ll have to find out,” she said with a wink, pulling him toward the elevator.

22: Where would you bury hidden treasure if you had some?Pfft... Like I’d tell you....I’d probably let Felan bury it.

TASERGAZER!!! (thank you for humoring me with this pairing that I love so much. <3)

2. ‘Wait…if you’re making pancakes…whose footsteps am I hearing upstairs?’

Pairing: Darcy/Heimdall

Rating: T

The house had looked sweet when they’d found it and Heimdall had been tolerant of the candy colors that decorated the old painted lady trimmings along the roof and around the deck. They thought it’d been empty and on the market because of the cost of fixing up a house in the historic district.

Or at least, Darcy had thought that.

Heimdall had probably seen them peering out of windows, watching from corners. But he kept that thing sort of close to his chest. Ghosts were his business. History was hers.

_

The first time had been at breakfast, the morning after their boxes were moved in and they’d christened the staircase on the way to the bed. (And then the bed after a short rest.)

She’d been lining her shelves in the library with books- the murder mysteries, the non-fiction, the erotic romances that her husband read to her in his deep, rich notes until she lost her patience for listening. Heavy thunking steps paced the hallway above her head which meant that either Heimdall had lost something (like his natural sense of grace) or…

She stuck her head out of the door, grimaced at the shocking mustard colored embossed leather wallpaper in the hall (she hadn’t made her mind up about all the leather on the walls yet) and smelled butter frying. She padded across the worn floorboards to the kitchen to find Heimdall at the stove, naked back flexing as he flipped a pancake into the air with a little flourish.

“Wait…if you’re making pancakes…whose footsteps am I hearing upstairs?” she asked. Which was silly. She already knew the answer.

Heimdall looked up at the ceiling for a long moment. “They’re all right,” he assured her.

“Dolly,” she said with a sigh and he looked over his shoulder at her, arching a brow.

“You said you wanted an old house,” he said.

And he had warned her. He could see ghosts, ghosts could see him, and generally they were a lot more vocal around him. It was a thing. A thing she had signed up for.

“I love this house,” she said, as firm and stubborn as the pacing steps that rattled the lamp hanging above them.

_

You got it!! thanks to @bloomsoftly for beta magic <3

11. At a pumpkin carving contest ‘Who came up with the idea of a contest where all the contestants have knives?!’

Pairing: Darcy/Victor Creed (Sabretooth)

Rating: G

“Who came up with the idea of a contest where everyone has knives?!” Darcy hissed to Jane at her side.

“Definitely that guy,” Jane whispered back.  

Darcy followed her nod over to the man that was prowling- like literally prowling like some kind of wild cat -out of the barn, three enormous pumpkins balanced in his arms like they weighed nothing. And a belt hanging with knives that looked like they belonged on a surgical table. He had something between a sneer and a smirk spreading over his face as he looked around the collection of people gathered under the tent.

Darcy kind of thought she should have done some more research about this pumpkin carving contest. It had sounded like fun on the little Facebook event she’d seen floating around. But her little Honda Civic stuck out like a sore thumb in the sea of muscle cars and motorcycles parked chaotically around the property. Not that she wasn’t down for a little subculture Halloween festivities. But she would have worn her leather jacket instead of the sweater she found at the Salvation Army covered in fuzzy orange pumpkins with candy corn button eyes.

Yeah.

The man reached their station, two pumpkins left in his arms. “Ladies, you look new,” he said, voice purring and slow.

“We’ll take the really big one, thanks,” Darcy said, reaching out to grab the stem of the beautifully round and outrageously heavy pumpkin in front of her.

“Are you sure?” He asked, grin narrow and one skeptical eyebrow raised. “We don’t go for stenciling at this event.”

“Do you know the kind of control it takes to install a magnetic pin into mass spectrometer without frying the motherboard?” Jane asked the man, arms folding across lavender-colored flannel.

Ghost - If you could be reincarnated, would you come back as another human or an animal? If an animal, what kind?

18. sweaters or jackets?

SWEATERS SWEATERS OMG SWEATERS sweater knitting is my favorite kind of knitting and i look forward through all the warm weather to getting to wear them.

20. favorite tree?

Yew tree. They are spooky and their wood is supposed to assist in magic pertaining to life and death and necromancy. A yew branch charged with lightning is especially powerful. Also they have those low twisty branches that look good for lounging in.

23. what do you have for thanksgiving?

OH HO HO my friend. dry brined and roasted turkey. five times as much gravy as i bet you think we need. cranberry relish with fresh cranberries. my dad likes making a fancier version of the green bean casserole with extra amounts of those crispy onions on top. butternut squash sage stuffing. salty baguette and butter (it’s important, i love butter) and to be totally honest we get those pre made mashed potatoes cause nobody wants to peel the potatoes and only two of us eat them. also, sweet corn casserole.

then. i make maple bourbon pecan pie, oatmeal pie, caramel apple pie, and like four pumpkin pies from pumpkins out of the garden. 

(i went for wintershieldshock, which i haven’t written before. hope you like it!)

“Wait!” Darcy called, out of breath as she skidded around the corner from the bedroom. Steve and Bucky were already at the front door in their tac gear, on the way to answer a call to assemble. They paused at the sound of her voice, turning in unison to face her.

“Sorry, Darce. Tried not to wake you,” Steve said as she approached. Bucky looked her up and down, clearly admiring the borrowed t-shirt she wore. She didn’t know if it was his or Steve’s—their clothing had been a jumbled mess on the floor, and she’d picked up the first thing she saw—but he clearly appreciated the sight. He bit his lip then sighed ruefully, nudging Steve with his elbow.

“We shoulda known better, Stevie,” he said, grinning at her softly. It was a strange juxtaposition, to see such a loving smile on the face of a man who had a sniper rifle slung over one shoulder. “Bed too big without us, doll?”

“Yeah,” she said, ducking her head so that her hair fell forward, shielding her face. She suddenly felt shy, aware of how new it was between the three of them. Maybe they hadn’t wanted to wake her up because they wanted to talk about it, weren’t sure whether they wanted this after all—

Her train of thought was cut off by a large, calloused hand reaching forward to lift her chin. Steve stepped further into her space, Bucky crowding her in on the other side. “I can hear you second-guessing from all the way over here, sweetheart.” His hand moved from her chin to her hair, tucking it behind her ear in a tender gesture. Bucky’s arm came up around her shoulders, providing a reassuring weight on her other side. She was well and truly boxed in, and she loved every second of it. “Buck and I are all-in, Darce. But if you need some time to think about it—”

His hand dropped away slowly, but Darcy didn’t let him get far. Gripping the front of his uniform, she pulled herself to her tiptoes, tilting her face up to his. Steve obliged her, bracing a hand around her back, tangling his fingers with Bucky’s and bending down slightly to meet her mouth with his. It was a hot, filthy kiss, one more appropriate for the bedroom than a goodbye. When she broke away, they were both panting, and his pupils were blown wide with desire. “I’m all-in too, you know,” she murmured, loud enough that they could both hear her. Bucky and Steve’s entwined fingers clenched against her back, and a brilliant smile lit Steve’s face.

With one last peck to his lips, she turned to meet Bucky’s heated gaze. He grinned down at her, waiting. “You need a reminder of what’s here waiting for you, Buck?” she asked, reaching for him. He didn’t hesitate. Stepping forward, he bent and lifted her completely off the floor, prompting her to wrap her legs around his waist. Steve stepped up behind her, bracing her between them, but her eyes never strayed from the man in front of her.

“Like I could ever forget, doll.” But he still leaned forward to press his mouth against hers. It was sweet and tender, like he intended to carry it with him on the mission, tucking it away for when things got tough. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pouring all the feelings she couldn’t say out loud—not yet—into the kiss, and he returned in kind.

They broke away reluctantly when Steve cleared his throat. “I hate to do this, Darce, but we really gotta go.” She dropped her legs to the floor, stepping away so they could all gather their composure. With a chagrined grin, Steve stepped forward to press one last kiss against her mouth, then headed to pick up his shield where it rested against the door. Bucky did the same, brushing his lips against her mouth and then her forehead, eyes closed against the storm of emotion she could see swirling through him.

“Try to get some more sleep, Darce,” Steve said. “We’ll be back before you know it.” He hesitated, wanting to say something else, but decided against it and opened the door. Bucky followed his lead, throwing her one last half-hearted wink as he headed out the door.

Maybe it was best to follow Steve’s advice, she thought. She had a hell of a homecoming to plan.