#monicadarcy

It was late. Really late. And whilst everyone else on the S.W.O.R.D. base was fast asleep, Darcy was still pacing around, trying to piece together any sort of new information. Everyone had been left reeling by Wanda exiting the hex and offering them one last warning against invading her home, and the only person who seemed to be able to get a handle on the situation was Monica. That was just the kind of person she was, though - brave, and commendable, and compassionate to a person who was clearly in desperate need of kindness. Man, how Darcy ador-admired, admired Monica!

After blitzing through her third cup of coffee, the astrophysicist felt her eyelids drooping slightly, and she silently cursed herself (and university) for barely feeling the effects of caffeine anymore. She could go to bed, but she knew her mind would just continue to churn out theories long into tomorrow morning, so that wasn’t really an option. There was only one thing she could do at this moment in time: and that was get more goddamn coffee!

Her boots crunched when they collided with the frosty grass, but thankfully the noise wasn’t enough to wake anyone up, which meant that she was free to stomp to her heart's content. Darcy immediately stopped when she heard what she could swear was a sniffle, and then a whimper, and before she could comprehend what she was doing she was trudging toward the source of the noise. It was a terrible idea, mainly due to the fact that Darcy wasn’t at all a comforting person. If anything, she was bound to upset the cryer further rather than soothe them. But hey, no one deserved to be left all alone in a puddle of their own tears.

The closer she got to the source of the noise, the more confused she became, because there was no way in hell that it was coming from Monica’s tent … right?

Wrong. Very, very wrong.

Darcy slowly unzipped the tent, peeling the blue fabric down just enough so that she could poke her head inside - and the sight she saw was nothing short of alarming. Captain Monica Rambeau - who in Darcy’s eyes, was the strongest person on the base by miles - with hot tears streaking down her face, furiously wiping at them with her sleeve in the hopes that they’d just disappear.

It was strange to see Monica exert any emotion that wasn’t remotely professional, and Darcy did a double-take. After a moment or two of just staring, her heart aching in her chest at the vulnerability she was suddenly being presented with, Darcy decided that she needed to do something about it.

“Hey—” She basically whispered, trying to alert Monica to her presence without scaring her all at the same time. It was a success, and though Rambeau didn’t jump out of her skin like Darcy was anticipating, she instead began wiping at her eyes ten times more ferociously than she was before.

“I’m not crying.” Monica croaked, and Darcy couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped her lips. Even in her darkest hours, Monica was trying her best to be strong. It would have been cute if she wasn’t so worried about her.

“You don’t have to lie to me.” Darcy said with a shrug, stepping inside the tent and closing it behind her, hoping they could have a shred of privacy in an almost-always hectic place. “Are you okay?” The softness of her voice was making her surprise herself, but she shrugged it off, merely putting it down to the anomaly maturing her. 

Sure, it may have been down to the fact that she got butterflies every single time she heard the words ‘Captain Rambeau’ uttered, or the weird tingly feeling that she got every time they accidentally brushed hands, or how Monica’s brief, fleeting smiles managed to make her day every time she saw them, even if they weren’t a regular occurrence.

But hey, that was just gals being pals! Nothing more, nothing less … 

Monica’s shoulders tensed for a moment at the affection she was being shown, and then she slumped down onto the cot that they were calling a bed around here (Darcy had never been more grateful for her rock hard mattress in her entire life).

“I couldn’t do it.” Monica announced suddenly, shaking her head which she was now clutching in her hands.

For a moment, Darcy wasn’t sure what to do, but she’d come this far now, and there was no way in hell she was going to just leave Monica like this. Her steps were slow at first, but after she’d mustered up all of her courage, they became determined, and she slowly lowered herself down onto the cot next to the S.W.O.R.D. Captain. 

“Do what Monica?” She queried, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“I couldn’t save her.”

It was a line that rendered them both speechless, and out of pure instinct, (and something in her subconscious that was urging her to console the woman next to her) Darcy manoeuvred her hand behind Monica’s back, rubbing small, soothing circles into it. The stress and the tension that had been in Monica’s shoulders suddenly seemed to dissipate, and there was a moment or two where that tension was lingering in the air instead. The two simply just stared at each other for a moment, drinking in each other’s features and basking in the company. But it didn’t last, nothing good did for too long, and after a few more seconds of silence, Monica’s eyes went glassy once again.

“Wanda she … she’s still in there. So are all those people. I couldn’t save her. I couldn’t save them. Just like I couldn’t save my mom. I mean let’s face it Darcy I’m nothing short of a failu—”

There wasn’t any other way.

That was how Darcy rationalised it in her head. She couldn’t let Monica sit there and attack herself for another second, and so the only way to properly shut her up?

It was to grab Monica’s face and smash their lips together, duh! 

Both of Darcy’s hands were clutching onto Monica’s cheeks, and even as she breathlessly pulled away, she never removed the hold that she had on her, rubbing patterns onto her cheeks with the pads of her thumbs.

“Darcy I—” Monica stopped herself from ruining the moment, and instead decided to bring their lips together once again. It was less desperate this time, and the small, content hum that flew past Darcy’s lips indicated that they were both on the same page on what exactly they needed from each other right about now. Intimacy. Affection. Dare they even say love.

Their mouths intertwined like they had been doing it for hundreds of years, and Monica made a mental note to ask Darcy later how she managed to become such a good kisser. It didn’t feel like a new beginning, nor did it feel like they were both taking a dangerous plunge into the unknown. It felt like they were coming home, and in that very moment it became clear to both Darcy and Monica that this wasn’t just a kiss. This was fate.

Finally, they had to come up for air, resting their foreheads against one anothers while they regained all the oxygen that they had stolen from each other in their romantic exchange. Neither of them were sure on what to say, and so apart from their small, soft pants, there wasn’t a peep in Captain Rambeau’s tent. 

“You know, I didn’t know you felt that strongly about this mission Doctor Lewis.” Monica eventually teased, mischief dancing around in her eyes.

“Oh I don’t, I’m actually not even a real doctor.” Darcy said with a smirk, blushing furiously at Monica’s tiny little giggle. “You wanna know what I do feel strongly about, though?”

jimmy: isn't that your girlfriend?