Avengers fic: Diplomatic Relations and Intelligence Failures, pt 3

((continuing adventures of femslash!  The first two parts can be found here and here))

“What, exactly, is that smell?”

Darcy chewed enthusiastically on her lower lip. “One third the best of Stark’s liquor cabinet, one third those really excellent doner kabobs from that place in midtown-”

“These are most excellent!” Sif held up her pita, grinning wide and bright. She licked a bit of sauce off of the inside of her wrist. She was wearing one of Darcy’s exercise outfits, and it was about three sizes too small. She made it work though, even if the yoga pants were at her knees and the tank top bared about six inches of toned, perfect tummy. “A feast fit for any warrior!”

“Yes, they are. And the last third,” Darcy said, leaning back and holding up one half-painted foot. She wiggled her toes. “Is the best nail polish available under current federal standards.” She gave the bottle a quick shake. “You want in on this? We got, uh, Crimson Cowl, Blizzard, Blacklash…” She glanced at Jane. “What do you have over there?”

Jane tucked her feet up under her. Her ragged cut off sweat pant shorts and one of Thor’s t-shirts were both too big and she swam in them, perfectly happy to be lost in a sea of warm, soft boyfriend fabric. The neckline of her shirt slid down over her shoulder as she sorted through the bottles. “Sunset Bain, Firebrand, Grey Gargoyle, Shockwave?”

“These things have stupid names,” Darcy said. She grinned up at Natasha, who was now standing over her, one hand propped on her hip, her hair a perfect wave of red over one brow. “Why do they have such stupid names?”

Natasha picked up a bottle of Crimson Cowl. “Deadlines,” she said with a faint smile. “And likely drugs.” She rotated the bottle in the light, letting the light play over the polish. “It’s a good color, though.”

Darcy held up a hand, where the deep, gleaming red lacquer covered her fingernails. “I think it suits me.” She made claws with her fingers. “Second only to the blood of my enemies!”

Laughing, Natasha patted her lightly on the head. “Well said.” She took a seat with a faint sigh. “Why are are we painting nails and drinking tonight?”

“Because cake is fattening,” Darcy said. “And we don’t have any.”

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