Chapter Text
Darcy had decided that one very cool thing about working with S.H.I.E.L.D. were the victory parties.
The hours might be long and weird and the superheroes and agents might get all the glory, but when a baddie was taken down even support staff like her were invited to the festivities. The food and booze were always fantastic, especially when Stark was hosting. Hell, his tower was even set up for overnight guests, so even if the Avengers themselves disappeared early the party could go on until the wee hours, and often did.
Darcy had arrived at the start of the night and once she made sure Jane and Selvig had eaten something proceeded to bounce around the room, getting a good buzz going with the smoothest vodka she’d ever had in her life. She’d stopped at two shots (or maybe three), because it was already getting hard to keep up with the music, people, and especially the noise. The parties were always loud but the addition of the Warriors Three and Sif had raised Thor’s decibel level exponentially.
Sif. She’d met her before, during the mess in New Mexico, but she’d been rather preoccupied with not getting blown up. Now that she’d seen more of her she wondered why she’d hadn’t noticed how hot Sif was right off the bat.
She was tall and athletic with a quiet magnificence that dominated any room she was in - “statuesque” was the word, Darcy thought, as she stole a glance at her for the umpteenth time. And the sword and armor weren’t just for show, she could hold her own with Thor - she’d seen it! She was exactly the type of woman who never failed to get Darcy’s attention, and she didn’t notice women often.
Sif laughed as she talked with the Black Widow, and Darcy was surprised that someone so awesome (as in, literally inspiring awe) could have such a sweet smile. She was tempted to go join them, but just...couldn’t. She didn’t see the point of making a fool of herself when this crush wasn’t going to go anywhere.
Because really, what chance did she have? Darcy figured she was cute enough for the ordinary world, but S.H.I.E.L.D. was full of buff superheroes and glamorous superspies. She was just a nerd herder in glasses and grubby sneakers. No warrior woman was going to pay attention to her unless she wanted a coffee or needed something filed (if she even liked women. Did Asgard even have lesbians?)
She was tossing back a third (well, maybe fourth) shot in an attempt to not dwell on it when Thor’s voice boomed even louder over the din. “Darcy! May I speak with you?”
Head spinning as she stood, Darcy wove her way through the crowd. “Sure, dude. What’s up?”
“I request that you assist the Lady Sif.” He leaned towards her, lowering his voice. “She cannot go about in armor on Midgard day and night unless she wants to attract attention.”
“Yeah, I get that,” Darcy replied, though she guessed Sif could wear a garbage bag and still attract plenty of attention. “Want me to take her to Saks in the morning, or -”
“She will need something to sleep in tonight. Can you share some of your clothing? I would ask Jane or the Widow, but they are too tiny.”
Thanks for reminding me about my fat ass, she thought, but saw Thor’s point. Sif was a big lady, and couldn’t very well come down to breakfast in something that fit her like a hanky.
“Sure thing. Send her round to-” she fished the key card out of her pocket- “2287. I brought a bag, I’m sure I can find something.”
“Wonderful! I will send her up immediately!” Before Darcy could protest he had interrupted Sif and the Black Widow. She couldn’t hear what was said, but Sif had started heading her way.
Wait, Sif was coming to her bedroom. Now?