Chapter Text
It takes Darcy exactly six months, three weeks, two days and seven hours of working as a glorified secretary for SHIELD to realize that she likes Clint Barton. Like, write about him in her diary, likes him. There’s only two – okay, a few – problems with this little revelation. For starters, she hasn’t kept a diary since the sixth grade, and really only has a Tumblr account to monitor what’s being said/posted/rumored about the Avengers. There’s also the small matter of Clint technically being a co-worker, which really probably isn’t an issue because SHIELD’s workplace fraternization policy is more vague than a Bon Iver song. And the whole age difference thing, which isn’t a problem for her necessarily because she’s always liked older guys. But it could be an issue for him.
And, yes, she has made a list of all the pros and cons of her revelation. It’s a Friday so there’s time to kill before they’re all sent home for the day. And Coulson’s been leaving early lately which eliminates the chances of him catching her slacking off. Not that he’d likely do much. Coulson is, quite simply, the coolest boss she’s ever had.
Of course that just leaves herself open to be caught slacking off by other members of SHIELD.
Like, Clint Barton himself.
He has a tendency to sneak up on people, something that obviously comes in handy with the whole super assassin thing. She’s gotten used to it, but having the guy you were just making lists about pop up right behind you tends to do things to your heart rate.
To Darcy’s credit, she doesn’t let out a high pitched squeal like she did the first time Clint dropped in on her. But she does nearly knock her iPod off her desk in her haste to cover up the list before Clint can get a decent look at it.
“Hey, Darce. We still on for tonight?” He leans against her desk and it takes every ounce of willpower she has to keep from staring at the way his jeans so perfectly fit his ass.
“Uh...” Okay, so maybe she sneaks a quick peek. Which distracts her, which makes her look stupid, which in turn makes her feel like an idiot. And she hopes that she isn’t blushing, because Clint is trained in how to pick up even the most subtle change in someone. “Of course, dude. You still owe me a shot from the last time.”
It’s not quite accurate to call their somewhat-weekly-barring-any-disasters trip to a local dive bar a tradition, but it’s close enough. The whole thing started after her first week at SHIELD and she’d been in the middle of watching a particularly good karaoke rendition of Benny and the Jets when Clint walked in. At the time he played it off as a coincidence, but she’s still pretty sure that he was sent to keep an eye on the newest member of SHIELD. Either way, he bought her a drink and didn’t completely humiliate her at darts. They also started a betting game on the karaoke, guessing what song a person would sing based on a now extensive list of criteria.
So it’s not a tradition, but it’s a nice slice of normal. And in a world of completely abnormal when your co-workers were all superheroes and highly trained government agents, Darcy needs all the normal she can get.
She says a quick goodbye to Clint before staring at the clock for the last few minutes of her day. When it ticks over to five she, along with the rest of the low-level flunkies, dash out of the office. From there it’s a quick ride up to the floor that holds the personal living quarters of Stark Tower. She’s still not entirely sold on the whole living where she works thing, but the rent can’t be beat. As in it’s free. Her apartment isn’t quite the penthouse that Tony occupies, but it’s at least ten times the size and about a thousand times nicer than anything she would have been able to afford on her own.
Plus there’s the added bonus of having the Avengers around, which usually makes for a pretty hilarious if not somewhat surreal experience.
There’s no hard and fast dress code rules for their not-tradition. It is a dive bar, after all. But something spurs Darcy on to go for slightly less casual tonight. She puts on her best pair of jeans and a top that highlights the girls in all the right ways without coming across as slutty. Or desperate.
Because she’s totally not desperate. Or madly crushing on Clint. Or hopeful that tonight will finally be the night that Clint kisses her when he drops her off at her door.
She stares at her reflection in the mirror for a few moment, then sighs and changes into a different shirt before she leaves.
~~~
The bar is far enough away from Stark Tower to avoid any uncomfortable run ins with other co-workers and just far enough on the side of what’s considered a dive bar to still have a decent beer selection. When she arrives the usual Friday night crowd is already starting to form, but she spots Clint over at their usual table.
Well, she spots Clint and Natasha.
Her heart drops to just about the same level as her stomach and she has to struggle to keep the smile on her face as she approaches them. While it took her six months, three weeks, two days and seven hours to figure out that she likes Clint it only took two days for her to figure out that Natasha intimidated the hell out of her. That, and there’s obviously something going on between them. This, of course, is the top item on the list of the Cons of Liking Clint Barton.
“Oh, hey Darce! Hope you don’t mind that I brought Tasha along.” Clint has that innocently sweet grin on his face and it’s hard for Darcy to be mad at him despite how awful she feels right now.
Natasha sits to his left and glances up to offer a simple nod to Darcy.
Darcy wants to flee.
But she sucks it up and sits down next to Clint, gratefully taking the shot that he had waiting for her. She was definitely going to need a lot of liquid courage to get through the evening and can’t help but feel a sense of relief when they’re spared from any attempts at conversation by the karaoke starting up.
Her eyes fall on the first singer. He’s new, which makes it all the more fun to guess. Middle aged, balding, wearing an ill-fitting suit and a drink in his hand.
“New York, New York.” Natasha guesses first, and Darcy has to wonder just how much Clint’s shared with the other woman about their not-quite weekly trips to the bar.
“Sinatra. Nice call. I’ll go with My Way.” Clint’s guess makes her want to roll her eyes. She resists.
“You guys are both way off. He’s totally going to do Piano Man.”
They quiet down as the music starts up and as the opening notes to New York, New York fill the bar Darcy starts to like their game a lot less.
~~~
The night wears on and the score stays relatively even until Darcy takes the lead with a stunning prediction of a sorority girl choosing Firestarter by Prodigy and not a trendy pop tune as chosen by Clint and Natasha.
“It’s always the ones in pink. You can’t underestimate them.”
Clint just grumbles as he goes off to the bar to buy Darcy her victory drink, leaving her alone with Natasha for the first time that evening. It’s hard not to squirm as the silence stretches out between them and it’s a mix of relief and anxiety that fills her when Natasha breaks that silence.
“You should tell him.”
“Tell him what?” Darcy’s in that happy place between buzzed and drunk, but even then she still knows exactly what Natasha is referring to. She’s just not in any rush to have this conversation at all, let alone with Natasha.
Natasha isn’t giving her that option.
Darcy sighs, then glances over at her. “What? Tell him just so you can then like, kill me in my sleep or something? Thanks, but I fully prefer having all my body parts intact.”
The answering laugh, something she was certain Natasha wasn’t even capable of, shocks her.
“I assure you that ending your life or bodily harm of any sort are not a part of my master plan.”
“But I thought you two were...”
“We were.” A ghost of a smile graces Natasha’s face before fading away. “But that has run its course. I can tell how you feel about him, and unless I’m mistaken he feels the same way. Clint, unfortunately, is male. So he of course won’t say anything about it.”
Darcy snorts. “Typical male.”
“What about men?” Clint quirks a brow at the two of them as he returns with shots. “And why do I get the feeling that the two of you were plotting something while I was gone?”
Natasha gets in a “Because we were,” before Darcy can come up with a plausible deflection. Clint just shakes his head and slides Darcy her shot as he sits back down. The rest of the evening is relatively event free. Save for the not-so-subtle-considering-she’s-a-super-spy looks that Natasha keeps shooting between Darcy and Clint.
Darcy ignores them. And hopes that Clint does too and tries not to seem too enthusiastic about leaving when last call rolls around. Because it’s bad enough that she knows she likes Clint, but even worse having Natasha know. She’s pretty certain that Natasha’s not the sort to go about blabbing things like that, but she’s still leery of the office gossip pool come Monday morning.
Things were going to get rather interesting.