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Darcy woke up with a massive headache, a dry mouth, and a heavily muscled arm around her waist. And she was only confused by one of those things.
Hint: it was the arm. The alcohol she remembered, and she was pretty sure there had been rum involved. They were celebrating...something, she wasn't really sure. Stark used any excuse for a party. For all she knew, Clint remembered to feed his cat.
There were vague flashes of someone tall, with a growly voice and, oh, a smile that promised wicked things. Judging from the soreness in her body, he had delivered. And then some. Darcy hid her face in her pillow and tried to stifle the giggles that were forming.
She felt the body behind her start to shift and she jumped a little bit when she felt him press a kiss to the back of her neck. “Morning,” the voice rumbled.
Yeah, she definitely remembered the voice.
Wait a minute.
She turned her head suddenly, smacking foreheads (ow ow ow), and, oh jesus, don’t vomit. Bad idea, she berated herself, closing her eyes and clutching her head and hoping for the world to stop spinning.
Taking a breath she tried opened her eyes a crack (who the fuck left the shade open?) and muttered, “Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed? I mean, shit. Okay, that sounded bad. I thought you’d be Steve. FUCK. That sounded worse. Oh god, make the drums in my head stop.”
Brock just chuckled and pulled her closer. His hand slid up her back to cradle her head as he snuggled her closer, her head fitting perfectly under his chin. He kissed her hair. “I’ll try not to be too offended,” she could hear the smile in his voice.
Darcy nuzzled his chest. What? He was comfy and the room was still kind of spinning around her. Shut up, you’d do it, too. “How are you not dying right now?” she grumbled.
“Well, for one, I didn’t try to keep up with Thor,” was his very matter-of-fact answer.
“I wasn’t,” she whined.
He hummed and she heard the sure you weren’t.
“I ‘member talking to Steve,” she muttered, more to herself than anything.
He scoffed. “No. Well, you were talking to Steve. You were propositioning him. His face was so red I thought he’d explode. Barnes found it fucking hysterical and was encouraging you.”
“Oh god,” she was mortified. Poor Steve. While he wasn’t nearly as prudish as everyone thought, she could only imagine the shit that came out of her mouth. She’d been known to even fluster Tony. Steve would have been no match for her.
Fuck. Okay, well, her plan was to now avoid him for the rest of her life. Totally possible.
Darcy could feel the laughter building his Brock’s chest and she wanted to hit him, but she’d probably hurt herself on his muscles.
They were nice muscles.
His handed moved gently through her hair. “Don’t worry, I swooped in to save him before there was irreparable harm. Cap’s fine. I’d watch out for Barnes, though. He’s never gonna let it go.”
Darcy knew he was right. Bucky Barnes was a little shit and got entirely too much pleasure out of being a cocky bastard. New plan, avoid Barnes for the rest of her life.
Biting her lip, Darcy tried to piece together the rest of the night from there. She failed spectacularly.
“So, um, then you, what? Took one for the team? I mean, not gonna lie, not the worst decision I’ve ever made. Have you seen you?” Now that the nausea was fading, she was starting to feel more like herself.
She was not ashamed. Nope, not even a little bit. Brock Rumlow has a special little place in her heart. He hit all her buttons. Tall, commanding, sexy as fuck, and she was pretty sure she wouldn’t have to do too much convincing to get him to tie her to the bed and fuck her for days.
He shook his head, his chin rubbing across her hair. “As much as I wish I could say yes. I, very sadly, cannot.”
Surprised, Darcy tried to look up but his hand kept her still. “What?” She couldn’t even complain, she was comfy.
He explained, “I could not, in good conscience, do that to you. When I take you to my bed, I want you to be able to remember it. And, being completely trashed, makes you incapable of consent. Which I’ll need.” There was a dark promise in his view and it went right through.
She nodded, or tried to, the marching band was back in her brain. Really, she shouldn’t complain about him not taking advantage of the situation. It was the right thing to do, damn it.
A thought. “Wait. Why does it feel like I had sex and why the fuck am I naked? Why are you naked?”
His hand slid down to cup the back of her neck and she looked up to meet his eyes. Or she tried to. She was pretty sure she couldn’t stop staring at his mouth.
It was a nice mouth. And it was moving. Oh, he was talking. “Can you repeat that?”
The mouth smirked. “I said, you’re naked because you have a severe allergy to clothing. Apparently. Just be glad I was able to stop you from stripping at the party. Stark wasn’t happy with that, threatened to feed me to Barton’s cat.”
Darcy groaned, loudly. She really wasn’t surprised by that. Tequila makes her clothes fall off, and alcohol in general makes her cuddly and affectionate.
“I feel the need to apologize. Profusely.” She closed her eyes, hoping it would take the sting out of the embarrassment. It didn’t.
He gave a one armed shrug. “Don’t be. You kept everything on until we got up here. And, despite my vast and extensive training, I could not for the life of me get you to keep your clothes on.” He didn’t sound too upset about that and she couldn’t blame him. She had a fantastic body, thank you very much. “But you pretty much passed out after that.”
She thunked her head against his chest.
“And,” he began again, and she could swear she heard laughter in his voice, “your soreness?” Okay, there was definitely laughter. “Some point in between trying to scar Cap for life and your allergy you decided to race everyone down the banister. You were the only one who did it. And you nearly impaled yourself when you got to the bottom. It looked like it hurt. You wanted me to kiss it better.”
She gave him points for not outright laughing at her. Too much.
“Jesus.” Really, she couldn’t defend herself. None of this surprised her. “Okay, but why are you naked? That’s definitely taking advantage of the situation.”
Brock just looked at her. “I have pants on.”
She squinted up at him. “No you don’t.”
He gave her a look that just said really? And at that she just whipped the blankets away and looked down.
He was right. And oh dear god look at those abs. She was pretty sure she just licked her lips.
“You kept taking my shirt off and I figured it wasn’t worth the fight.”
No, no it was not.
His smile widened, “Thank you.” He flicked the blankets back over her.
Oops. She said that one out loud.
“What I’m going to do now is get out of bed, find you some something for your headache, and wait for you to crawl out of the blankets. After that, and if your stomach has settled, I’ll take you out for a greasy breakfast.” He sounded confident in his plan.
She groaned, “But I don’t wanna move. Can’t we just stay here? Cuddle? Snuggle? I’m all for that plan. Yes, let’s do that.”
He moved her head back gently, tilting it up. He kissed her forehead, her nose, her cheeks, her chin, and then finally, her mouth. She sank into the kiss, as much as she could, pressing closer, her body flush against his. His mouth moved over hers, as if he were savoring the taste of her. She gasped and suddenly there were teeth and tongues and oh my god don’t ever stop kissing me. He pulled away slowly, giving her lips one last swipe with his tongue. She hummed.
“I’m going to take you out for breakfast, and then, after you’ve recovered a bit, dinner. There won’t be any alcohol because I don’t want there to be any questions about what we’ll be doing later,” he was firm with his instructions and she wasn’t going to complain.
Darcy wanted to remember every touch and kiss and caress and yeah. She was on board for that plan.
Once the room stopped spinning but she was pretty sure it wasn’t just the hangover.