00:00:00 [selectively still accepting -- but may go unanswered]

She’s hung-over and she just wants a gatorade and some air conditioning. Darcy had known, academically, that drinking with Thor had not been one of her shining moments of genius, but the dude could just look so adorable when he wanted something.Not like hot adorable, but like a big ol’ golden retriever begging for a piece of your cheeseburger when you know he’s supposed to be on some expensive diet dog food exclusively.

So she, Jane, Erik, and Thor had drunk and drunk and drunk until Darcy knew nothing of consciousness anymore, and when she woke up on the RV’s couch with a blanket and a bottle of water (and also, curiously, a street stop sign?), she’d only known regret.It was a hot, silent trek to the closest convenience store, and when the automatic sliding doors whoosed open with a blast of blessed cool air, Darcy thought she might cry.

But then the tiMer in her wrist chimed and her eyes made solid contact with a dude who wasn’t... not hot, but definitely not her type.He could be her type, though, if she’d tried.

Dirty blonde, short hair. Squinty-ish eyes in a square face. 

But his grin.

It could eclipse the sun as he made his way over to her.

“Hey, so...I’ve got a boyfriend.” It’s not bashful or regretful admittance, but plain -- like he was reporting that the news would be on soon, or that the sun would go down in an hour. Just a neutral fact, with such a big, dumb smile that Darcy couldn’t help but return it with a shrug.

“Me too. Not that, like, you know...you’re not a babe, because, you know, you are, but...”

He nodded and grinned and there was a moment of companionable, comfortable silence before he nods across the street.

“You want...coffee?”

Send “#” for a RANDOM text.

20.Carrying while half asleep

She must feel like a bag of rocks in his arms, her head lolling against his shoulder while he cradles her body against his.

“Clint.” Darcy leans in to whisper against his ear, perfectly aware that it would be ticklish -- but unaware that he was struggling to manage them both up the stairs to her second floor apartment.

“What a surprise. Clint Francis Barton doesn’t pick up his cellphone in a time of need.”

[She’s whispering, spitting words out so quickly it seems as if she feels that tomorrow won’t arrive.]

“So I heard this joke and it made me think of you so, you know, considering I have maybe like two minutes tops to live, I thought this would be a good time to tell you.”

[ You

It a male voice, booming and demanding and not quite human.

Get out from under there]

“What kind of tea is hard to swallow?”

[I said get out]

“Reality.”

[ It sounds like thunder, like the comfort of a storm sent from Thor, the clatter of clouds rubbing together.

But Darcy doesn’t speak again and there’s the sound of bootfalls as whomever it is walks away.

She’s quiet, her eyes closed in a manner that almost appears as if she’s sleeping --- there was nothing better than Clint’s braiding.

[text] I’m sorry, no more lizard jokes, I promise

[Clint] Sap