R_S: This chapter doesn't feel finished, but I've been staring at it too long with no idea what else to do with it.

A T.G.I. 2: The Date

Steve, Darcy, Others Mentioned

StevexDarcy, Mentions of ThorxJane

Sighing, Darcy pulled one purple bud out of her ear.

"Ok, what's wrong?" She asked. Jane had been eyeing her all morning, pink lip worried between her teeth, and generally flitting around the lab like a nervous hummingbird. She would try to focus on her work, only for her eyes to drift up and fix on the younger girl, looking none too happy.

Darcy wracked her brain for what she could have done. The notes were all organized and filed, and the coffee was brewed and hot. She had gone to pick up lunch from Jane's favorite Chinese spot, even though she preferred the place downtown. She was even ahead of schedule on the calibrations! So what then, she wondered, could possibly have the boss's panties in a twist? The name Tony Stark popped into the back of her head, a tiny pit of dread settling into her stomach. Somehow, whenever Jane looked like this, his name seemed to come up, and though Darcy had never met him or any of Thor's other teammates personally, she was already growing to resent the cheeky bastard.

The scientist placed down her pen. "I am so sorry." Darcy's eyes narrowed.

"What did you do?"

"It's nothing I did…" She offered, as though that was some sort of consolation. Darcy entirely removed her music and placed it beside her word.

"Jane… why am I going to have to murder your boyfriend?"

"Like you could," she snorted. "I want the record to show that I was totally against this. I told him you wouldn't like it."

"Wouldn't like what? All this cryptic mumbo-jumbo is way foreboding." She pouted.

"Well, it's not a huge deal, it's just… he kinda has this friend that's single, and Tony thought it'd be a good idea to try and set him up with someone, and I mean, I guess somehow you came up-"

"No." She made a cutting motion with her arms, "Absolutely not."

"Darcy-"

She turned back to her work and cut her off with a sing-song "Not happening." Insistently, Jane poked her side.

"Why not?"

"Jane, if he's single, there's gotta be a reason." Darcy argued. Clearly, there was no work to be done for the duration of the current conversation, so she picked up some left over dumplings that were sitting beside her.

"You're single." Her boss countered, unceremoniously reaching over her to grab the lo mein at her elbow.

"… don't be pedantic." She mumbled through a full mouth.

"But come on, what do you have to lose?"

"I'm no good at dates! They're stressful and awkward and weird, and I somehow always seem to come across as a weirdo on them. And I'm especially not doing some creepy blind date- the dude could be a- a- like, an axe-murder or something."

"Darcy, first dates are awkward for everyone, not just you. And anyway, I don't think Thor has any serial killer friends."

"Loki?"

"… touché. But what are the odds he'd know more than one? And this guy's mortal."

"Well, he could still be a creeper. I don't know anything about this guy."

"His name is Steve. He's from Brooklyn, likes art, and is, according to Tony, a Cancer."

"Oh well in that case." Darcy rolled her eyes, "And you just assume not only that I'll like him but that he'll show up and be genuinely excited to see my nerdy ass."

"I don't assume anything; I had nothing to do with it. I was just tasked with somehow convincing you it was a good idea."

"Well, you can't win 'em all." Once again, Darcy tried to return to her transcriptions, but Jane was not having it. Under other circumstances, she might have been amused by the role-reversal and wondered if there would ever be another time when she would want to work and her science-addict boss wouldn't. It was highly doubtful.

"That's not really fair. You haven't really given it any real thought."

"So? I thought you were against all this anyway. Why do you care?"

"I said that I didn't think you'd want to. But honestly, I don't think it's a bad idea. How many friends have you made since we came to New York, Darce? You need to get out there more, meet new people, make connections. And a relationship isn't such a bad start. This could be good for you."

"… I have friends."

"I didn't say you didn't. I'm just saying that you aren't always the best at putting yourself out there to make new ones."

"And you're one to talk?"

"No, but let's be honest- you're worse than I am."

"Nuh-uh."

"I have trouble with anyone outside of academia. You," she pointed with the chopstick at Darcy, "don't even try; and in the rare instances you do, you let your mouth sabotage it. You're acting like I did after Thor left, only you don't have the pining excuse. You were the one back then that encouraged me with Richard, now you're being a total hypocrite. And you've been this way since… forever. Seriously, did you even go to a single social event back on campus?"

"… they were stupid. And I don't wanna stand alone at some school-sanctioned party where I don't know anybody."

"Nobody knows anybody at those parties, Darcy. That's the whole point of the party. Hell, I'd throw you one if I thought you'd actually show up. You need more of a life."

"I have a life."

"Marathoning Netflix and going on that tumbler-thing is not a life." At that, Darcy narrowed her eyes.

"Heathen."

"Just one date, Darcy. That's all I'm asking for. If you won't do it for you, do it for me… Thor won't let this drop until you do. It's all I'm going to hear about."

"Well, that's your problem."

"It'll be yours too when he starts coming around to sell you on it himself…" Jane let that point hang in the air, a victorious look about her. Damn, Darcy rationalized, she had a point. Getting anything done would be impossible with the big lug around constantly yelling about love and passion and whatever the hell else he would decide this related to. She stared back at her boss evenly, wondering if she stared hard enough if she could somehow will the whole thing out of existence. It didn't seem to work.

She sighed. "Fiiine… But it's only one date!" She insisted, over the squeals of victory her boss exuded. It fell on deaf ears; Jane was already whipping out her phone and scurrying out of the room. Left alone, Darcy groaned and allowed her face to fall onto the desk.

"Why do I feel like I'm going to regret this?"

She was pretty sure part of her hair was sitting in the lo mein. That had to be a bad omen.

Darcy shifted uncomfortably in her seat, the backs of her legs sticking to the vinyl. She was sitting at the open window of this cute little café a few blocks from work, the one every unnecessarily involved party had insisted was perfect for them to meet. And it was pretty cute, she supposed. She felt over dressed for it, though.

Jane had gotten ahold of her, which explained enough. She was somehow roped into wearing a pleated skirt and a silk blouse. She didn't even own a silk blouse; Jane had made her buy one. It was gross. It made her sweat, and she was pretty sure pit stains had begun to form already. And her poor hair was all done up, her make-up not the way she wanted… she felt like a plastic doll. It was gross. And her legs kept sticking to the fucking chair. Seriously, who put vinyl on seat cushions anymore? Totally lame sauce. If she was being honest, she had felt super pretty when the date started- or was supposed to start – but the time spent waiting in the heat had turned her into a scraggly rat.

Seriously, it was not her best look. She could tell.

She checked her watch again. He was supposed to be there ten minutes ago. And that was alright, Darcy supposed. New York public transportation could really screw you over in astounding ways. She had adopted a ten-fifteen minute grace period since following Jane to the city. At least, that was what she told herself. But when the other person is running late for a date that you don't even want to be on, you start rationalizing exit strategies. If he was born and raised in New York, like Jane claimed, then he should have known how bad the MTA is. He should have planned to be early. The man should always be the first to arrive. At least, Darcy thought that was the rule- she didn't do a lot of dating, honestly.

She decided to grab a chocolate croissant in the interim. It was not clear how serious this so-called 'date' was supposed to be, but she couldn't bank on this dude paying (although, Jane had insisted he would). Still, if he was hung up on it, he could get the coffees. In fact, he should get the coffee for making her wait. It was only gentlemanly to make it up to her. But sitting alone at a café table with nothing in front of you had a way of making the staff glare and you look like a psychopath. Plus, the chocolate was kind of calling her name.

Obviously she took her things with her when she got up- it was New York City, after all – so it was equally obvious her initial seat was gone by the time she was done paying. She got stuck sitting at the bar against the wall, tucked away in the corner eating her Danish all sad and alone. She cursed the pathetic existence she called her life. And got chocolate on her new silk shirt.

"Oh son of a bitch." She muttered, and with all her infinite wisdom, Darcy started wiping at the brown smudge with her napkin. She ended up with a chocolate stripe across her breast. It was, objectively speaking, still not her best look, but it did do well to compliment the sweat stains and make-up trail dripping down her neck. And running a hand over her hair, she could feel the frizz and flyaways. Oh yeah, she thought to herself, she was a catch. Looking like this, the police were going to 'catch' her and lock her away in Bellevue.

Her eyes searched the room, seeking out the restroom. It was a single person closet that already had a line. What if he showed up while she was on line? What was the decorum for that? Hell, what if he showed up while she was in the bathroom? He would not see her and probably assume she had already left. In fact, from that corner, she might have missed him.

It was at that moment Darcy realized that she had no idea who this Steve guy was. She did not even know what he looked like- just that he was blond and tall and would likely be wearing khakis. She was assured that they would figure it out based off physical descriptions. Apparently, she was easily describable (Darcy assumed the description focused in on the boobs). That also meant that it was entirely possible that he had already walked in, saw her, and walked out.

She looked at her watch again.

This 'Steve' was about half an hour late.

Darcy left.

Darcy sat at that same stupid café, drumming her fingers on the table carelessly. He was not there yet. Again. She shouldn't have even been in that damn hell-hole of humiliation. And yet, here she was. It was all her stupid boss's fault.

"Please please please please please!" Jane had cried, hands clasped. "Just give him one more shot. Something came up, we told you!"

Yeah, a likely story. But Jane swore it had been a true blue emergency and asked her to meet him again the very next day. Still, Darcy had sworn she would never set foot in that place ever again, nor would she show up to any event where any guys named Steve would be present. Jane said she was being overdramatic. Darcy said she was nursing a wounded pride- nay, a sense of self that had been gussied up, paraded out for all to see, and then brutally stabbed, sullied, and kicked while down. It was a perfectly rational reaction, she claimed, and nothing would convince her to rethink her position. Nothing would ever convince her to show up.

Then she got a personal muffin basket from Tony Stark. But his muffin baskets were less muffiny and more techy. If she had sold everything in it, she probably could have paid her rent for the year. If she ever met the guy, she would definitely have to become his friend.

Ok, so she could be convinced to show up, but literally nothing could convince her to get dressed up for that loser. At 4 o'clock that afternoon, she found herself slouching at a corner table in an old tank top and her comfy cute butt jeans (ok, she wasn't interested, but feminine ego dictated that he had to be, if only to see what he was missing). Her leather jacket was a bit worn, but that just made it more movable, and her boots were fully scuffed. Despite the hipster-ness of it, she kept on the knit cap. She had worn it in New Mexico, she had worn it in England, and she would wear it here. There was not a scrap of silk to be seen on her, despite Jane's carrying on.

She was playing Candy Crush on her phone when someone pulled out the chair, hardly paying attention.

"Sorry," she started, "that seats ta…ken." Her eyes drifted up to see the most handsome man she had ever laid eyes on. A perfect specimen of a man that clearly thought he could have whatever he wanted, as evidenced by the unquestioning seat grab. She licked her lips as he sat. "Um… I'm kind of waiting for someone."

"Yeah, I, uh, know… I think you're waiting for me." He gave her a sheepish smile. "Hi, Darcy. I'm Steve." He searched her face almost nostalgically as he said it. She gaped, mouth open and head tilted to stare at him up through her eyelashes.

"You're Steve? Like, Jane's Steve?" There was no way, she swore, not a friggin' way in hell that this guy couldn't get himself a date. Girls were literally looking over at them already. If this guy was single, it was by choice, and there was no amount of friendly intervention that was going to change that for him. He could not be her date.

"Um, I guess you could say that, yeah." Oh no, she was not going to be this meat-head's newest piece, no matter how pretty those big blue eyes were. She slouched further in her chair.

"Figures. Well, hi I guess."

"Um… hi. Again. Let me start by apologizing for last time. Someth-" Darcy sneered slightly as she cut him off.

"Something came up, yeah I got that."

"Right… did, um, did you want anything to drink? I was gonna go grab a coffee…"

She shrugged. "Sure, I could go for something. Just get me whatever you're having, I guess." She would be damned if she was paying even a cent this time. "Thanks." She offered as an afterthought. She didn't want to be there, but she had manners, after all. He looked unsure, probably used to women fawning over him and offering to pay, but he got up and went to the counter. He looked back at her from there a couple of times, but she had whipped out her phone.

'Is this your idea of a sick joke?' She sent the text quickly, letting Jane know exactly how she felt, and all put threw the phone back into her purse. She would not sink to his level and be rude enough to keep her phone out on the date, regardless of how ill-be-gotten it seemed. A glance over showed the barista practically pouring her breasts out from behind the apron in an effort to get Steve's attention, and Darcy looked away with pursed lips. They had some goddamn nerve making her the butt of a joke. Ever the glutton for punishment, she glanced back, surprised to see him paying her little mind. If anything, he seemed taken aback by her crassness.

Maybe he was a Mormon? She wondered, twisting a girl around her finger. Or a born-again type, or something. Maybe he was Amish, and he had decided to leave everything behind and had no idea about how electricity and girls worked and just lived in a straw barn in an alley behind a sketchy Brooklyn apartment, because he had no money but excellent knowledge of building simple structures to house animals. That was definitely not it, but quite frankly, she was too cranky to figure out the real story.

Steve returned with two cappuccinos and placed one in front of her. It had an elaborate design in the foam and looked amazing. His was lackluster and not entirely full, and she had a sinking suspicion the barista had meant for them to go the opposite way. At least he had one manner.

"Thanks." She commented curtly, but she made no move to sip it. He awkwardly twisted his around in place, his gaze darting between her eyes and a scratch in the table.

"So, uh, what were you up to before this?" Even he looked pained by how lame the question was, and Darcy allowed herself a victorious little smirk.

"I was at the lab, working. You?"

"Ah, right… I was at the gym." The snort of derision was halfway out of her mouth before she could stop it, and she choked, trying to hide it with a sip of cappuccino.

"Got a cold." She muttered, "So, uh, what exactly do you do that you can be at the gym on the middle of a week day?" Her cloying tone left little question that she had her doubts, but c'mon; she had been down that road before. And the gym, really?

A puss pulled his face down, and he sniped back, "Well what kind of job sends you on a date in the middle of workday?" As soon as the words left his mouth, be began sputtering awkward apologies, face a mask of regret. The girl across the table only smirked, tilting her cup to him.

"Touché." After a punctuated sip, she placed the cup back on the table and leaned back in her chair with a practiced look of boredom. Blondie licked his lips, gaze dropping like a wounded animal, and Darcy pulled herself back into the chair reticently, as he spoke.

"Look, Darcy, I know I had to stand you up last time, and I'm really sorry about that, but did I do something else to offend you today?" She sighed and shook her head, immediately feeling guilty. The guy had not really done anything to be a douche yet, imminent though it was. Taking out her annoyance at being set up on him really was not fair.

"No, Steve, you didn't. I'm sorry. I just… this whole thing wasn't exactly my idea."

"Yeah," he chuckled softly, "mine either." There it was, confirmation that he was not exactly a 'settle-down' guy.

She shrunk down a little further in her seat. "And I take it I'm not quite what you were expecting to see either?"

"Why wouldn't you be?" That surprised her, and she looked up at him. "You look just like your picture- except, y'know, crankier…"

"… what picture?" His eyes widened at that, lips forming words that did not come out. "Well?"

"The, uh, the one they showed me when they wanted to set me up with you-"

"So you facebook creeped me and looked at all my stuff?" She narrowed her eyes. Sure, people did it (except her, because for some discernable reason this guy had NO FACEBOOK- a red flag if ever there was one), but it was juvenile and pretty much maxed out how annoyed she could possibly feel on this terrible date.

"No ma'am, just the one they had on hand from New Mexico-" Never mind, she could cross the line from annoyed straight into pissed.

"Oh my god, they showed you my file? You have some creepy stalker picture of me?!"

He looked like a deer in headlights, going on the desperate defensive. "I didn't take it, I swear! Tony got it from Thor and just kinda, I dunno, left it at my apartment."

"Well how the hell did Thor get it, he can barely work a flip phone let alone access S.H.I.E.L.D. files!"

"I think Barton or Romanoff gave it to him?" He offered it weakly, shoulders shrugging. It would have been comically if her mind was not already abuzz.

"Barton and- Jesus, why do you even know them that well anyway? Who the hell goes hanging around superheroes anyway? What, are you their water boy or something? The new Coulson?"

"… They didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what, smart-ass?" She snapped, still looking none too pleased.

"About me. I'm Steve-"

"Yeah, yeah, I know- Steve from Brooklyn, a Cancer." She huffed, ready to continue carrying on.

"Ma'am, I'm Steve Rogers."

"Ok, whatever, nice to meet you Steve Roger-" She halted her rant suddenly and sat up straighter, looking him dead in the eye. "Steve Rogers? As in the Steve Rogers? Holy shit! That makes so much more sense- wait, no it doesn't!"

"Uh… it doesn't?"

She stared down at the table, a look of utter disbelief on her face. "Why the hell would they set me up with Captain America?" At that, Steve looked a little affronted.

"Wha- hey!"

"Oh come on, you know what I mean! But wait- when something came up last time… something really came up. Was it…?"

"Classified, ma'am." At her steadfast stare, he buckled slightly. "… A bomb may have been involved."

"Shut. Up! Well, then I'm sorry about all the nasty things I called you- both out loud and in my head. Thanks for, y'know, not letting us die n' all that." At that, he gave a smile. It was just a slight, lopsided quirk of his lips, but it was his first real one of the date.

"No problem… I'm pretty sure this is the point where, if I had a hat, I'd tip it an say 'all in a day's work, ma'am.'" That earned a genuine laugh from her. Who knew Captain America could be self-depreciatively funny?

"And, y'know, I'm sorry today I've been so…" She trailed off, not sure if she could bring herself to say the word 'bitchy' and curse again, now that she knew who he was and the initial shock had worn off. He offered a soft, acquiescing expression.

"Think nothing of it; I completely understand. A young lady that, as far as you knew, just got stood up by some loser… Thor told me how much Jane put you through to get ready… I feel really bad about it. I'm thankful you decided to come at all this time."

Suddenly, Darcy felt very self-conscious about her decision to dress down and slap brushes out of her boss's hands. Trying to act casual, she brushed a hand over her frizzy curls.

"Er, you look lovely, by the way…" he offered, as though noticing her discomfort. "I like the jacket." She looked him over. He wore a button up and jeans, covered by a jacket very similar to her own. She smiled.

"Back at ya, cap."

Maybe Jane wasn't the worst after all.

The End

R_S: Y'all asked for a sequel to A Terribly Great Intervention, and here it is. I hope you liked the different take on a first date with Steve and Darcy that wasn't all rainbows and butterflies and them getting along. I'm working on another one like that where she's kinda a werewolf (she can't shift or use any werewolf-y abilities, but the wolfs in her- it's a thing, it's complicated) and he's her mate, but she's very resistant to it… could be fun, we'll see how it turns out.

Feedback and requests welcome and desired! Leave a review!