Little Wrapped Up PTSDs
They couldn't help but feel that they were lucky To have her as their "personal intern". Sure, they share her, so she wasn't just "personal".
She's like a Mary Sue in every way. She has the dark past like Romanov and Barton, she has her talents in everything, her skills at the peak, her knowledge to the best she can do, her memory at the finest. Yeah. That's why she is fit for the job. The only one fitted actually.
She's like the mother to this group of strange heroes. The mother hen to the little chicks. The lady fox to her cubs.
Her humor and ability to make everyone feel so relaxed around her was the most appreciated.
Everyone remembers the time when the group was down. After a mission where they saw children being singled out and trained harshly for war. They watched some of them die too. And the worse was when they were not obligated to help.
They tried to, they really did. They went, to hell with orders, and started to take out those people. They rescued what was left of those children they were harboring, but they could do little to save the ones that died. So when they were all acting depressed and all that stuff, Darcy just swoops in to help and make everyone cheerful again.
She was the one who offered to wake up dreadfully early in the mornings of the days they were depressing about. She woke up earlier than ever, with, sometimes the help of Jarvis, to prepare delightful Breakfast in hopes to cheer them up. With the patience of a hunter, and the skills of a five star chef, she made a scrumptious breakfast, made up of stacks of pancake with maple, a side of bacons and eggs, and occasionally, Earl grey Tea.
She became a service to them, she lent an Ear to them, during this period of time.
She leaves a couple of sweets around the lab for Banner, after learning that the man has a sweet tooth, picking up the tradition after Stark became too preoccupied with his ideas and projects. She leaves little green gummy bears in water as well. Just like Stark used to do. It cheers him up a bit. After watching the gummy bears soak up water and expand.
She became Stark's little fetcher. Fetching tools for him here and there, occasionally trading wrenches for coffee. Though, in an effort to make him sleep, she will crush small amounts of sleeping pills into his beverages to make him take a nap or two.
They sometimes exchange jokes, perhaps play pranks on each other, like Darcy hacking into Jarvis to forcefully separate Stark from his projects on scheduled time, and Stark having to play rock songs the whole night in her room. (Thank god the walls were sound proof)
Though mostly when things get out Of hand, she calls Pepper in for help.
She became Rogers's personal ear, listening to his rants, his talks, his pleas. She became some what like a comfort pillow.
She drinks with him, though it was him drinking, not her. She doesn't drink on the job. She merely watches him down countless amounts of alcohol in hopes of finally getting drunk.
She watches the forties movies with him occasionally too. Reliving her childhood, as well as his time.
Perhaps sometimes Snow White and the seven dwarves, or the little Disney movies she owns.
And she shops, she often finds herself buying little forties trinkets she could find. Though she can't help in any way to complete his lists of things to obtain because they were much to out of her salary and out of her reach.
Except mundane tasks holding a conversation for a whole day. She gave up her day off for that.
And sometimes, she was able to surprise him by saying:
"I know you can lie, Steve. But sometimes, you lie about the wrong thing."
She leaves Romanov and Barton to each other's hands to comfort each other.
Though sometimes she steps in to help out. Like trying to be a ballet prodigy for Romanov. Or being her shopping partner. Or even speaking to her in fluent Russian, calming her nerves and trying to keep up with exercises and being prank partners.
She let Romanov spoil her, lets her treat her like a motherly figure. Being the Mother she never will have. And often, Darcy doesn't know who is helping whom.
Sometimes, when her mouth slips, she expects herself to be in deep trouble, she expected to be in a death hold, expecting herself to dodge a deadly knife aimed for her head.
But when her mouth slips and she calls Romanov, "Mom," instead of attempted murders, she finds herself in a cuddle.
With Romanov whispering,
She deals with Barton separately, unlike many others. Instead of offering an Ear for his troubles, instead of doing acts of kindness, she instead pranks Barton.
Prompting him to start a prank war. And it works every time. Just like that, she was able to take his mind off of things without him knowing. Barton would often be in the vents, attempting to scare Darcy, but often finds himself stuck on sticky rubber, often with a sticky note on the side of the metal wall in the vent. A note that reads,
"May the finest Prankster survive."
He would mumble incoherently to himself. And yet, she will still be able to hear, to understand whatever language he speaks in. Even when he mumbled, "I'm gonna win, one day, for sure." In Greek, after learning to say that after days of practice, Darcy walks past him to reply,
"Never when you're up against me." In thy same language. It often leaves him in utter disorder.
She doesn't help much for Thor. She leaves him into the hands of his female counterpart. To let her relieve his pain, not Darcy.
Though often, she would teach him mundane uses of objects, no matter how many times it needs to be taught to him with patience.
She bought one of the finest Cameras the world has to offer, after finding out that he loves pictures, and he loves taking them.
She taught him how to use the confusing Muthor Of God device, and in no time at all, he is able to take the finest of photos.
She lets him take all the pictures he wants, thus bringing him to all the sights of New York City.
And she also respects his pride enough to leave his Mjolnir alone, knowing fully well that she is one of those few in the universe worthy enough to pick it up.
She lets him call her his little lightning sister whenever he wants, though often be annoyed by being call by the mouthful name with particularly no reason.
She downloads the many episodes of 'Sherlock' as she can, and leaves the flash drive plugged into the Television Thor owns in his room, so every time he switches it on, he sees his ever favorite show.
Slowly, Jane realizes how much of a best friends they are, and she slowly learns to not keep him all to herself whenever the time fits.
And what they don't know, is what they will never know unless told.
She would often use her level 8 and special clearance security card given to her by Nick fury himself to access the high leveled security confinement cell deep underground, the one under SHIELD's headquarters.
She would walk down the white corridor, littered all over with hidden cameras, monitored by Jarvis the A.I. (Whom is under strict orders to not tell anyone about what he recorded ((not even to Stark))) and SHIELD's Director and executive themselves only.
She would turn the same corridors, often coming across heavy white gates that blocks her path, gates that needed different ways to open every time she enters.
She would often be walking on the pristine pale grey floors that lead to the deepest and most secured prison of all.
She would often stand in front of the glass that separates the world and his large rectangle prison glass/crystal cell.
She would always present a small grin to him, tuck loose strands of brown hair behind her ear, take her false spectacles off, raise her chin, with a shine of light in her not-obvious-often-mistaked-to-be-blue Green irises, and she will wait for him to speak up first.
She'll watch him stand in front of the glass on the other side, standing on the elevated floor, look down at her with amusement and gentleness present in his eyes, he will grin back lightly, and he will place a palm on the glass.
And she will reach up, and she will place hers as well.
And then he will always say the same thing with his silken voice.
"I thought you'll never come back ever again, Dearest." To which she will reply, as always, the same reply.
"Why would I not return, Love?"
And they will chuckle softly.
And they will be watched through the eyes of the Son of Coul and Fury. Often with slight interest in their conversation, often muting their recordings to respect their privacy, often smiling and looking away.
It was funny to them how a mere human with such incredible talents and skills, with a past full of darkness and misery, have the most powerful assets of this world wrapped nice and tight around her finger.
It was one of those days when they find themselves unable to sleep.
Their PTSDs have them stare at the ceiling of their individual rooms for quite sometime. And only when they finally had enough of the devastating ringing silence and the occasional breeze from the Air Conditioner, did they ever come out of their abodes.
She never sleeps.
Hardly, actually. She does, but right now, it's the worst time of the year.
It's when her past gains strength to keep up to her for days. Perhaps weeks. It is often quite impossible to tell. But seeing that the nightmares that come screaming after her in her dreams become more violent and dark, it seems it will last for weeks, not days.
For the first time ever since she moved in, she finds herself sitting on the white marble kitchen table top, nursing a small cup of strong coffee that has since long go cold.
She props the heels of her smooth feet onto the kitchen island, and she sits up so straight, that her back seemed to be as straight as the wooden chopping board they own in the shelves.
And she stares. She stares into the darkness.
Well. That was only for awhile. Until someone comes along to entertain her.
The god of mischief and lies, aka, her soulmate whom is both a psycho murderer and prisoner to SHIELD.
He appears suddenly beside her. But he has yet been able to scare her. She only looks up to his face, grin a fake one, and looks back down to stare into the dark, dark, blackness of the kitchen. He stares at her solemnly. Eyes befalling the top of her brunette hair covered head, as His face was a blank sheet of paper, only his eyes have the spark left in them.
He uses his hands, and places them on top of the ones holding the cup of cold Coffee. He uses his long smooth fingers to gently pry her fingers off the cup, his digits fit perfectly in hers, and with a single hand still on top of her ten fingers, he takes the white cup away from her, places it on the kitchen island behind him, without even so much of a glance taken away from her.
He proceeds to cup her face with his long hands. Making her face him. He rubs the unders of her eyes, where soft dark circles are starting to appear. He places his forehead against hers, making sure their noses touches one another's, and he gives her soft lips a kiss because that's what they deserve.
Slowly, he feels her hands snake up to behind his neck, pulling him tightly towards her. Prompting him to deepen the kiss, though it still borders the line of gentleness. Her legs find their way to secure tightly around his waist as his hands falls to her hips.
They stay like this, for just several seconds. Before Loki picks her off the white marble table top, and starts to move towards the adjoining living room.
He walks with ease towards the black velvet sectional sofa, whilst still maintaining his lips on hers.
He reaches the sectional sofa, and gently places her onto the soft surface, back first. He arches his back to lay her as gently as he can, with a gentleness rivaling that of a kitten's soft paw, he slowly slips away from her, though without hesitating to pull his lips away from hers first.
His face positioned inches from hers, staring intently with humor and slight satisfaction in his obvious and piercing green eyes. He nudges the tip of his nose, touching her own soft yet also sharp point.
He sits beside her, bum just next to her waist, arms on either sides of her head, he pecks a kiss onto her forehead, before drawing away to sit up straight.
The knuckles of his hand rolls down the right of her face,
"Sleep, Darcy. You need it." He whispers softly in Asgardian. Knowing fully well that she will understand. She is Omnilingual after all. His knuckles moves on to smooth down her left side face.
"I'll be here to protect you."
He watch her eyebrows furrow, surprise jolting her system awake before answering.
"Loki. If you stay, they'll—
"It matters not." He cuts her off. She shuts up immediately. She nods understandingly. Then, with a hand, he closes her eyelids with a palm over them, and within just minutes, he hears her breathe go slow and ease.
And he smiles a pleasant one.
When he first entered the kitchen, he made no move to turn on the lights, nor make any sound to alert the others that he was awake.
He navigates the kitchen with his memory, pulling out a sachet of the blackest coffee there is, from the overhead cupboard.
He uses his hands to search for the kettle of hot water, he waves his hands around the the surface of the marble table top, in hopes of finding the hidden hot water kettle.
He finally found it, after the tip of his middle finger brushed the handle of the kettle. His mind made no move to tell him that the kettle was far from where he last placed it, should his memory serve correctly.
He takes the handle, grasping it tightly. And he pours the content into his signature black with a blue triangle mug.
The aroma of the black coffee rises into the air as he stirs the hot black liquid with a metal teaspoon.
He places the kettle down and back to its original position, before moving to pick up his cup of coffee, and turning around casually to lean against the white marble kitchen table.
He stays like that, for at least two hours, occasionally sipping his black coffee, staring off into the darkness, in his own mind. Completely unaware of the other two companions that lay a few metres ahead of him.
Two hours passed, and it was three in the morning. Three separate doors creak open. And footsteps fill the corridor.
Rogers closes the door as quietly as he could, whilst Romanov closes her door without so much of an effort, and yet it still closes without sound, Banner, in turn, does not care, and he closes the door like he always does. A small bang fills the air for fractions of a second.
Yet they don't mind.
"Can't sleep?" Rogers asks his other two company. They mutter a single, "Yeah." As they step towards the entrance of the main living area. For a period of time, light pitter patters of bare feet fills the corridor as they step towards closer and closer to their destination.
And the first sound made to resonate all around the dark living area was a teaspoon knocking against a ceramic.
And Romanov's ears instantly puckered up for a second. Before realizing that it was Tony Stark standing in the kitchen, rather than an enemy that infiltrated the Stark Tower.
"Cheers." Stark suddenly announced, softly, so only they can hear. He raised his mug of coffee at them, nod once, before resuming back into his original pose. But that gesture was quite hard to see in the darkness. The three that had just stepped in, merely saw movements.
The very same said three whom just entered, also make no move to on the lights, their footsteps, though, became a tad louder a they walked towards the kitchen. Just a tad louder. A tad.
They join Stark at the Kitchen island, making themselves their own mug of Strong black coffee, except for Banner, whom instead, goes for the normal sweet kind.
But instead of the silence that steals away time after they made the mugs of coffees, they chatted softly, with occasional soft chuckles.
They notice no shadow shifting on the couch, they notice no one attempting to exclude noise from his ears, they notice no one attempting to aim a thick rubber band at their heads. They notice nothing at all because of the eerie dark and stillness of the night.
Banner starts to fidget after a long, long while, shifting his weight on each leg every time, he still talks normally he doesnt slur to give away, like a man who is totally not falling asleep.
Romanov noticed his behavior, even in the squinting darkness, she makes out his attempts on not falling asleep. She grins, and suggested they move to the sofas in the living room.
And Banner was thankful.
They move, yes, they do. Their footsteps' sounds hardly ricochet off the walls of the adjoining rooms.
But they sit directly facing each other.
When they reach the sofas, instead of sitting down onto the soft cushions of the large sectional sofa sitting in the middle of another two smaller sized sofas that faces each other, they move to sit, facing one another.
In turn, they leave the middle sofa alone.
And In the dark, they don't notice the smile and gleaming teeth of the psychotic murderer as he hugs his soulmate tighter in his arms as he lay on the middle sectional sofa along with her.
They continue chatting as they were before, though Banner falls asleep just moments after they sat down.
Even till the last hour, until the last of them slowly got up to walk back to their rooms to claim their rightful sleep time, Loki still kept the amused and humorous expression on his face.
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