#pointless treacle

She was so close, fingers poised to slam the microwave door, when there came a hasty knocking at her door. 

“Fuck,” she muttered carelessly, certain that whoever was behind the door heard her. She put on her best bitch-face and swung the door open to reveal an equally soggy Steve Rogers.  He was panting a little, like he’d run all the way from the tower. Her frown softened and she opened the door wider to allow him in. “Hey, what are doing coming out here in the rain?”

“Uh, Dr Foster said you two had an argument,” he smiled sheepishly at her, trying to curl into himself in a losing effort not to drip water on her floor. “She said you were upset. Well, she was upset that you were upset and I didn’t really know what to do except come check you were okay?” 

“Oh, man. You didn’t have to do that.” She could see him blushing a little and suddenly felt very silly for her stroppy-ness all day. “It was a long day, Jane and I were just under each other’s feet the whole time and just ugh. It was stupid. Nothing to worry about.”

“Oh. Okay.” He blushed even more and radiated awkwardness. He’d chased her all the way down here to make sure she was alright, apparently for no reason. She had never realised Steve would do that for her, would even consider her feelings at having a silly fight with her friend. They saw each other fairly frequently, Jane’s research brought them under SHIELD’s radar often enough for it, but they never went beyond ‘how was your weekend?’ and other inane small talk. Darcy had no compunction admitting she found Steve attractive  - like now, soaking wet and rosy-cheeked - but never thought he’d be interested in her. But to sprint all the way here to check on her. It was endearingly saccharine and made her smile. He turned back awkwardly towards the door, mission accomplished, but she snagged him arm. 

“Uh-uh. I’m not letting run back out in that weather. Come on in, I’ve got fluffy towels and leftover spaghetti.”

“I don’t want to be a bother. If-if you’re okay, I’ll go check on Dr Foster.”

“You expect me to believe Jane isn’t already wrapping herself around Thor? You really want to go back and watch that?” Darcy gave him a pointedly knowing look and pulled him further into her apartment. She picked up a couple of large towels off her most recent pile of clean laundry and handed them to Steve. “Come on. I don’t have any spare clothes that’ll fit you but you dry off a little.” 

He still looked like he wanted to protest. “Go. Go sit down. I’ll heat up some food and change and we can vegetate in front of a movie. You can pick.”  

Darcy didn’t give him any more opportunity to refuse and went about reheating the entire bowl of leftovers. She changed into her softest, warmest flannel pyjamas (which were also her least flattering but fuck it.) and padded back through, armed with pasta and coffee, to find Steve looking through her DVD pile on the living room floor. 

He was now divested of the hoodie he came in with, as well as socks and shoes, now just in a white tank top and his rain speckled sweat pants. She smiled at the sight of him, fighting with people didn’t usually come with this kind of reward. Steve looked up from the DVDs and grinned, taking in her pink-spotted pyjamas.

“Don’t diss the jammies, Rogers,” she said as she handed him his share of food. 

“I didn’t say anything,” he replied, accompanied with a smile that made her think of Labrador puppies.

“You were thinking it. Anything you want to watch?”

“I dunno. I don’t really know most of these movies...”

“You watched ‘The Lion King’ yet?”

“Uh... no.”

“We’re watching ‘The Lion King’.”

She slipped in the disc and found a comfy spot on the sofa, wondering if Steve would let her cuddle up to him. Once the food was gone, the coffee drunk and Timon and Pumbaa half way through Hakuna Matata  Darcy managed to sneak close enough to rest her head against Steve’s side. He didn’t seem to care and let her relax on to him, with her eyes drifting shut.