"This looks like the opening scene from a bad chick flick."

The voice dragged Darcy's attention away from the letter in her lap. Clint stood in Thor's doorway, an eyebrow quirked in question at her sitting on the floor, leant against the couch, with piles of envelops and pictures surrounding her. Of course he'd turn up when Darcy was rocking her oldest pyjamas and a pair of messy pigtails. Not to mention the nearby empty Corona bottles that clearly added to her air of class and mystique.

In a futile attempt to distract the attention from her, Darcy lifted a drawing of Captain America. The stick figure had spiked blond hair and a wobbly shield coloured in with blue and red crayon. "Matt, age five from Detroit. He wants to be an Avenger when he grows up." Darcy offered another selection from the pile spread across the carpet. "Lucy, age fifteen from Orange County, wonders if Captain America will be her date for prom."

"Steve's a popular guy," Clint commented.

"Before your ego gets all bent out of shape," Darcy said as she pointed towards another collection of letters perched on the couch's armrest. "Some of your fan mail is over there. Trust me, there are plenty of folks out there keen to have you play Robin Hood to their Maid Marian. Or Legolas to their Aragon, 'if you swing that way'."

Clint's smile bordered on smug as he crossed the room and neatly leapt to sprawl on the couch behind her, picking up his letters as he landed.

"Careful though," Darcy warned, willing herself to ignore the flutter in her stomach that Clint's close presence tended to instigated. "The first few are kind of... graphic." She hoisted herself off the floor and aimed for the fridge. A little distance might get that fluttering under control before she did something stupid or embarassing.

"Think you meant pornographic," Clint muttered while Darcy retrieved a couple more beers. "Amazingly detailed porn at that. Though I don't think bodies bend the way they're describing."

Darcy could only shrug as she made her way back. "Wait until you reach 'Suzy' from New Jersey," she said while offering him a bottle. "She sent photos."

Clint stared up at Darcy. "Naked photos?"

She nodded, beer still extended towards him. "Glossy prints and everything." Superheroes really were the new rock stars, with willing groupies and everything. It was probably just a matter of time before one of them pulled a cliché and dated a supermodel or similar.

Darcy kind of expected Clint to start flipping through his letters in search of his nude fan. But instead he put the entire pile aside and accepted the beer, drawing his legs up to make room for her on the couch. "I know you and Jane are stuck here until Thor can get Loki back into his prison cell," Clint said as Darcy took the seat beside him. "But we can find something more entertaining than sorting the mail."

There were a lot of fun ways to pass the time that immediately sprung to mind with Clint sitting just a few inches away from her. Darcy made sure to squash those thoughts down quickly. She was scared enough that Natasha would garrotte her for handing over the erotic fan mail. "I don't mind playing secretary." Darcy picked at the damp label on the bottle. "At least I feel like I'm doing something useful rather than being a damsel imposing on your hospitality."

"You're hardly a damsel Darcy. Damsels don't fight dark elves in London or stick by their friends despite the risks," Clint countered.

With a snort, Darcy finally cracked off the bottle cap and took a swig. "Those are kind of small entries on my C.V. in comparison to you guys. I mean, how many times have you saved the world this week alone?"

"Only once," Clint replied. He sounded so nonchalant about it too. But he often did. His understated humour was something Darcy enjoyed. It gave him an edge beneath that otherwise casual exterior.

"Once is all it takes to bring in more fans," she said, gesturing towards the mail still spread over the floor.

Clint chuckled with the rim of the beer bottle pressed against his lips. "I hope Steve gets the naked ones this time. I want some crayon Hawkeye's to put on my fridge."

With a grin, Darcy put her drink aside and reached for a different pile of letters. "Ask and you shall receive..."

Thanksgiving had arrived in the middle of a rare few blissful days of apparent world peace. Loki was still AWOL but they had decided to leave the hunt for one evening. Dinner was roasting in the towers kitchen, despite the majority of the towers guests and residents skirting their vegetable chopping duties for other diversions in the tower. The sun was low in the sky when Clint decided to join them. He felt only a twinge of guilt for leaving Bruce and Jane with the last of cooking as they continued to explain the holiday's history to Thor.

The vibe was relaxed when Clint stepped out of the elevator to the penthouse floor. Against the New York backdrop, Tash and Steve were tossing a nerf football between each other while Tony lounged at the bar, whiskey in hand. Darcy had taken over one of the recliners, her attention focused on the novel gripped between her fingers.

After nods of greeting from his teammates, Clint chose his own seat. It was close enough to Darcy that he'd be able to assist her if Loki were to suddenly materialise. That was the only reason, Clint reassured himself. Anything else would be wrong. Creepily wrong.

"Have you actually thought through the logistics of buying a football team?" Steve asked Stark while receiving a spinning toss from Nat.

Tony's gave a dismissive wave of his crystal tumbler. "Why bother? All that matters is it's manly. Rugged. Patriotic."

"Don't bother arguing," said Tash. "He's been like this since that dinner with Pepper's parents."

Clint had heard the story. Mr and Mrs Potts were hard working Texans who had next to zero in common with a Californian playboy, a mutual love for Pepper excluded. Tony's plans to win them over grew in grandiosity each time Pepper rejected one. The current obsession with football ownership came after learning Mr Potts was an avid NFL fan.

"How much does it cost to buy your own football team?" Clint asked in mild curiosity.

Tony shrugged in response. "I don't read price tags."

Darcy's voice joined the conversation. "It would be a bit over two billion for the Cowboys, assuming you're after the team Pepper's dad roots for," she said absently, her attention still on her book.

Steve rolled the football between his palms. "Pocket change for you, right Tony?"

"Closer to twenty percent of his worth according to Forbes," Darcy corrected. Everyone looked at her in tandem and Darcy raised her head, blinking behind her glasses. "Google it if you don't believe me," she added before resuming her reading.

Darcy's depth of intelligence had been a slow reveal. The girl hadn't even been on S.H.I.E.L.D.'s radar until she'd starting hacking firewalls. When reading the report, Clint had found himself relating to the girl who deflected attention with smart mouthed comments and apparent irreverence. There had been enough people who'd dismissed him as all brawn, no brain. With a body like Darcy's, he doubted she'd had it any easier being taken seriously.

As the others dragged Darcy back into the discussion, Clint was certain it was the world's loss if they overlooked her. Hearing Darcy good naturedly debate the financial merits of sports team ownership was even more alluring than the other night when she'd sat beside him on Thor's lounge in her soft, body hugging pyjamas.

With a shake of his head, Clint pushed that thought aside. The penetrating look Natasha was throwing his way suggested his face hadn't been as neutral as he'd intended. He didn't need the rest of the tower realising he was a letch. Darcy was ten years his junior. And watching her climb off her seat to tackle Steve for the nerf ball, Clint acknowledged with some regret that Darcy had never tried knocking him to ground with such zeal.

It was a relief when Thor appeared on the floor and announced in a booming voice that it was time for dinner.

"I can't believe Loki has managed to evade everyone for this long," Jane grumbled, shifting a pile of print outs around Thor's table. "It's been over three weeks. I need to get back to work."

Actually, she needed to eat. Darcy firmly deposited a turkey sandwich on top of Jane's readings. They were going to be consuming leftovers for days. "Jane, you do remember that your last job was in London, right? That place that's still a little crumbly after being attacked by giant floating things?"

"Semantics," said Jane. The doc did at least relent and picked up the sandwich to nibble at the crust. "I need to do something."

"You have. You and Doctor Banner helped pinpoint that Loki is on Earth somewhere. It's just a matter of time till he's back in a cell. And then," Darcy paused to wiggle her eyebrows suggestively. "You and Thor can get back to some serious booty call time."

Jane had to pause to swallow her food before she could respond. "Darcy, I swear. We need to find you a boyfriend so you can worry about your own love life instead of mine."

"Even if I had a boy toy," Darcy replied, taking a seat on the edge of the table. "You think after over a year of trying to get you and Thor back together, I'd just leave you two to get it all wrong again?"

Jane grunted. "Fine. I'm going to set you up with a hero type. That will keep you busy."

The laugh Darcy gave came out a little more cynical than she intended. "Good luck with that," she said, absently swinging her legs.

Jane reclined in her seat, staring at Darcy speculatively. "What gives Darce? You're one of the more self assured people I know. Sometimes even aggressively so. But last couple of weeks you've almost become... self conscious."

For a moment Darcy contemplated whether to deflect the question. But Jane was the closest thing she'd ever had to a sister. And it would be nice to let out some of the feeling she'd been suppressing. So with a slight exhale of air, Darcy replied. "Look, I'm awesome. I know that. But let's do the romance roll call and talk about the ego-crushing standards around here. Steve loved a feminist World War Two operative. Tony snagged a Fortune 500 CEO. Both Bruce and Thor's had the remarkable good taste to pick women with Culver doctorates. And Clint..." Darcy gestured a hand around as she tried to find the words for him. "He has a deadly, intense and unspeakably gorgeous Russian. And flipside, Natasha has an amazing, funny, selfless and heroic man with the most mind-blowing muscle definition known to man."

As Jane's eyes narrowed Darcy had the sinking feeling she'd revealed too much in her rambling. There were times when Jane could be amazing oblivious to the intricacies of human emotion. But other times, that 168 I.Q. could be scarily insightful. "I bet you need a coke with that sandwich," Darcy said quickly as she climbed off the table. "I'll go get you one."

"Darcy," Jane's voice made her pause in the doorway, one hand on the frame. "I think you're wrong about the relationship between Hawkeye and Black Widow. Everything I've heard says they ended their romance long ago."

Hope nudged itself into Darcy's awareness only to be squashed a second later. With a glance over her shoulder, Darcy offered a wry smile to her friend. "Even if they're not a couple, that's still his type of woman. I got no chance." She paused, desperate to lighten the mood. "Unless I learn to take out a bad guy with a paperclip. That might impress him."

"Screw paperclips. If Clint Barton doesn't want Darcy Lewis, he's an idiot," Jane said before removing the plate off her work and resuming her reading.

The rope burned beneath Clint's fingers as he hauled himself up towards the ceiling. His body was beginning to strain with the effort but it always did by the sixtieth repetition of a rope climb. Clint extended his arm, reaching for the touchpad embedded at the top. By the beep that rang through the gym before his fingers hit the metal surface, he knew Tash had beaten him again. His beep echoed shortly after and Clint glanced towards the scoreboard sitting on the gym wall. Thirty each.

"Ready to go again," Clint asked.

"In a second," replied Nat. She balanced on her rope just a few feet from him, the cord gripped between her thighs and one hand. Natasha used her free hand to push a damp lock of hair away from her forehead before she turned her attention back on Clint. "I don't know if she's a good fit for you Barton."

Clint worked his own rope around his foot to help distribute his weight before replying. "Which 'she' are we talking about?"

"Don't make me hurt you," said Natasha. "It's a long drop to the floor."

"Tash," Clint replied. "I'm not going to try anything with Darcy."

Natasha had been part of Clint's life long enough that it was near impossible to shock her. But from the look on her face and faint wobble to her rope, it seemed he'd come pretty damn close with that announcement. "Why?"

"Can we get back to training?" Clint groaned, a plaintive note to his voice. "I ate a whole lot of stuffing yesterday and I'm not going to be the superhero with a gut sticking out of his uniform."

"Just answer the question and we'll get back to preserving your girlish figure."

Clint tightened his grip on the rope and stared briefly at the ceiling. "I'm too old for her. Too jaded. Darcy deserves someone who can be there for her. Someone to support her. Encourage her. Keep her safe from all the shitty horrors we know there are in the world. Happy now?"

Natasha inclined her head in acknowledgement of his answer. "Okay," she said before beginning to slide down the rope.

They completed another round of twenty climbs and the scoreboard sat at forty wins apiece when they stopped for water. Clint was putting his bottle aside when he felt Natasha get close. She looped a towel around his neck, holding the ends against his chest as she stared at him.

It had been several years since Tash had stood this way against him. Nat's soft, sweaty body pressed against his own had driven Clint wild on many occasions in the past. Today it stirred emotion in Clint's chest, but not his groin.

He would always love his complicated, determined little Russian. But it was things like this that had ended the romantic relationship. The touch was a test. A probe. He could see it in her eyes as she looked up at him from beneath her lashes and it put him on guard. "I was wrong," Nat murmured. "She might be a good fit."

Clint returned Natasha's gaze for a few moments before he wrapped his arms around Nat's back and hugged her. He was trying not to laugh. "This is about Darcy?"

Natasha nodded before drawing away. She was many things but a hugger was not one of them. "Most of your girls, it's been a case of sex first, dealing with consequences later. I don't know if it'll work forever but any girl who you're so worried about screwing up has to be a good influence on you."

Pulling the towel from his neck, Clint felt the frustration begin to rise again. "She's not here to fix me Nat."

"Barton," interrupted Natasha, her tone firm. "You're not actually that much more emotionally mature than her. You're a match that way." There was a pause as Nat tilted her head, lips pursed in contemplation. "And chronologically, I'm only a few years older than her. Don't recall that being an issue back in Budapest."

With a sigh, Clint hung his head. "Yeah. But I'm not the energetic twenty-five year old I was back then either."

Natasha smiled as she headed for the weights. "Lucky you have the superhero thing going then, old man."

The tower had faultless heating. But with winter spread over the city, Darcy had decided to make use of the fireplace built into the observation level. She sat as close to the heat as she could bear, knees tucked to her chest. Her mind had begun to wander as she watched the flames flickering over the wood, until a voice interrupted her reverie.

"Am I interrupting another chick flick moment?" Clint asked as he took a seat on the carpet beside her.

"I'd classify this as more paleolithic," Darcy replied. "There's something nice and primal about watching things burn."

With a chuckle, Clint reached for a poker and nudged a couple of the logs. "Should I be worried you're about to set random fires?"

"No, not a closet pyromaniac." Darcy lifted a wedge of letter from beside her. "But I'm building up a good flame with some of the more insane fan mail you guys got."

Clint glanced towards the pile. "More naked photos?"

"Maybe a couple...?" Darcy trailed off as Clint reached to ease them from her fingers. Without even glancing at the mail, he tossed them all into the fireplace. The flames arched as the various papers and prints began to burn, spilling light across the pair. "Not even curious?" she asked.

Leaning back on his elbows, Clint extended his feet towards the fireplace. "We all have enough crazy in our lives already."

"Can't argue with that." Darcy turned her gaze towards Clint. He still stared at the flames but a smile softened his features. "Speaking of which, at least Loki is on his way back to Asgard. Soon as Thor has him in the jail cell again, Jane and I will be able to get out of your hair."

Clint didn't respond straight away. A strange kind of calm had settled between them and the crackle of the fire filled the silence. Darcy moved to rest her cheek upon her knees while she watched Clint and the way the firelight played across the broad features of his face.

A log shifted and sent a small shower of sparks into the air. "Maybe we should do something to celebrate your reacquired freedom," Clint finally said. "You and I." He looked towards Darcy in time to see her brows scrunch in confusion.

"You mean, just us?" Darcy was tentative with the question.

"Sure." Her response was immediate and Clint didn't foresee a career as a secret agent in Darcy's future. The slight cough she gave was awkward and she seemed to be stalling for time as a hand came up to pull her hair over one shoulder. "Or we could invite the others..."

"No." Darcy reply was rushed but the one resolute word knocked aside the stillness between them. Clint sat up straighter, bringing his eyes level with Darcy as she uncurled herself, legs dropping to the ground as she turned towards him. "I mean... is this a 'let's hang out at a bar and do shots' kind of celebration? Or is it a date?" She was unflinching with the word even as a range of emotions marked her face. "Because I'm terrible at dating."

Clint breeched the small gap separating them. His thumb found the curve of her jaw, the only point of contact as he leant towards her. "So am I. I mean, really, really bad." They both laughed at the admission. Clint's touch lingered on Darcy, as did the smile that settled in place as the laughter died down. "But I like you Darce. So I'd try."

Darcy caught her lip between her teeth while everything else about her softened. Clint's fingers slid up her cheek as Darcy's mouth hovered closer to his. "There's something else I've wanted to try for weeks," she murmured before their lips met, the fire still burning bright beside them.