swishy jacket

Maria Hill

So Phil wasn’t joking about the no pirate joke thing. Dude wears an eyepatch and swishy black leather jacket. And, even though I spent several hours at dinner with him, I can’t say for certain whether Fury likes me or not.

But none of that matters because that’s not even the interesting part of the night. Oh no, the interesting part of the night would be that even though he’s a man of few words, Fury felt the need to spend most of them on Barnes. BARNES! You might wonder why that is (I know I sure as hell did!) and it’s because Fury sees that ass-hat as his legacy! WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?! Am I never to be free of Barnes?! Must he somehow infiltrate all areas of my life!? I mean, maybe I should have seen this coming or whatever because Shield, but duuuuuuude. I can’t with this.

But that was just the start. He spent so much time quizzing me like it was a job interview, even though I already turned Agent down. There was all this questioning about my degree and my experience while making me feel like none of it would ever be good enough. Though, to be fair, maybe it’s not since I’m not sure that anyone meets the standard he wants them to. (Least of all that dick-hole Barnes. Not that I’m salty about it or anything.)

lostdaemon  asked:

Peter Quill's mom died because of Darcy, his little sister. At least that's what it felt like to him as a kid. His mom refused treatment for so long so she could deliver Darcy whole and healthy. Peter didn't understand everything, but he thought he understood enough. Darcy wasn't even out of neo-natal when their mom died. Their mom knew her time was short and made several tapes for them both. When they finally meet again, Darcy has more tapes to give him. They bond and heal over mix tapes.

Didn’t quite get as far as the bonding and healing bit but here you go…

on AO3 if you prefer.

….

Darcy is twenty five when she meets her brother for the second time in her life, or at least that is how the math works out. She can’t stop fidgeting with the earbuds tangled in her pocket, and the plastic toggles of her navy coat. Anxiety spikes, and she tells it to merrily fuck off.

“You okay, Darce?” Jane asks, voice pitched low enough the group ahead doesn’t hear. Jane’s cold fingers lace with hers, and she gives her hand a reassuring squeeze. Steve turns his head to glance back at them, brow furrowed. As if their fearless leader didn’t have enough to worry about.

Darcy tilts her chin up and rolls her eyes halfheartedly. “Supergreen,” she says, voice falsely sweet. “Just another day, walking on the decayed head of a giant space corpse.”

“About to meet your maybe brother for the first time,” Jane says knowingly.

“It’s not the first time. I just don’t remember the first time.”

“Darcy…”

“I’m fine, Jane.”

“Nobody is ever fine when they say they are.”

Darcy sighs, its a fine time for Jane’s empathy to act up. “Shouldn’t you be sciencing it up? I mean alien…planet? Asteroid? Skull? With honest to blog spaceships, aliens, and stars. Jane look at the stars,” she says pointing at some sort of advertising billboard with a bowl of something with a galaxy of stars swirling above it if you squinted and looked through the graffiti scrawled all over it.

Jane opens and closes her mouth, and sighs. She squeezes Darcy’s hand tighter. For someone with tiny birdlike hands Jane has one hell of a strong grip. The smile Darcy gives in return is almost real. She might even thank Jane when the day is over and they are all sitting in some tavern in Asgard with horns full of ale or mead, or whatever massive Viking dudes drank to numb their sorrows.

She really was fine, or so far past it that she didn’t know the difference.

Darcy felt like her internal organs were covered in a layer of thick frost. Everything felt numb and a little surreal. She was there, bone and flesh beneath her boots, an astrophysicist clinging to her side, and a group of Avengers between her and…some Tolkien level bullshit.

Technically she wasn’t there, neither was Jane, but science and Thor… And well, Thor rarely said no to Jane.

“Oh my God,” Jane gasps, followed by word vomit of the variety that meant Darcy never played Words With Friends with the plucky scientist. Ever. “If I could get a sample for Betty.”

“No, Jane, you are not going to ask to molest Grandmother Willow’s alien brethren,” Darcy hisses, pulling Jane back from edging forward. “Bad, scientist.”

Darcy’s words feel normal as they leave her tongue, sarcastic and snappy, and the rest of her wishes she felt as normal as that. If she thought facing down the destroyer, space elves, and Thor’s douchecanoe brother had made her jaded to weirdness then she was so wrong.

The numbness of possibly meeting her trufax brother is the only thing that keeps her standing when faced with the rogue cast of Saturday Morning Cartoons put through a psychopath filter.

Not that she has any stones to throw, routinely hanging out with scientists (both post lab accident and pre-caffeination), an alien (sex) god who had the right to wear a spangly tiara, and assorted mutants, and that one time Steve came over to dinner. God she made an ass of herself that night. Darcy fights to keep her eyes from straying to find Captain Rogers. She really had enough to deal with today. Maybe too much.

She was starting to rethink this whole tagging along to meet a dude with her brother’s name. Darcy considered herself good in a crisis. Took  pride in her potential as a future sidekick if Jane became any more super than her brain already was….and, you know if Darcy was comfortable wearing kinky boots and spandex with a boob window on a nightly basis. Ugh, probably not.

There can’t be that many Peter Jason Quills out there in the galaxy, can there?

This was probably not one of her better ideas.

She really should have thought about this a little more than she actually did.

….

As meet and greets go, it’s one of the better ones. Far less damage than the last science nerds convention, where Betty and Jane got plastered and attempted to turn the espresso machine in the bar into some sort of time machine, or something that Darcy wanted no part of. She instagrammed the hell out of it though. They ended up burning a hole through four floors of the hotel the convention and Jane cold cocked a supposed former SHIELD agent that was slumming it as hotel security.

She didn’t even want to think about when Jane dragged her, kicking and screaming to meet Tony Stark.

Yeah, no.

….

“I am Groot,” rumbles a deep voice pulling Darcy out of her thoughts. .

“Good to know, big guy,” Darcy says. She internally apologises to Thor for using his nickname for someone…something else. But really, dude was a fucking tree.

How did that even work? He eyes were kind, or maybe just the tilting of his head made him seem not so frightening. It really was a good thing that the apple trees from the Wizard of Oz never gave her nightmares when she was a kid. A really good thing.

Groot holds out his his hand, gnarled and dark. The tiniest flower blooms from his palm, pale and delicate. “I am Groot,”  Groot says, voice softer, and no longer the sound of tumbling boulders. Groot plucks the flower from his palm and offering it to Darcy with a smile that cracks his face in two.

“Oh, er, thank you, Treebeard,” Darcy smiles back holding the tiny flower in her hand.

“I am Groot,” Groot says turning his attention to Captain Rogers, or rather the shield strapped to Captain America’s back.

“Sure you are, buddy,” Darcy thinks, twirling the flower held between her fingers.

“Pssst, Jane. Jane. rotting skull planet to Dr. Foster,” she whispers tugging on Jane’s sleeve and distracting her from wandering off in the name of science. “Are you seeing this?”

“Oooh, pretty,” Jane murmurs.

“Groot grew it for me. Correct me if I’m wrong, and I know you will, but I took biology in high school. I know what flowers are.”

“That’s…okay, yeah, ew,” Jane says, rifling through her pockets. Moments later she pulls a sample vial from thin air, like some amature magician at a children’s party performing tricks for a sad eyed pony in a party hat. The flower goes into the vial and the vial disappears into Jane’s coat.

A flash of red catches Darcy’s eye, between Tanuki, the raccoon god, and green lady with the dip dyed hair.

Her stomach drops somewhere around her boots. It’s not difficult to figure out who Peter Quill is, but she still tries to see the boy, from the polaroids in a photo album, in the man smiling and raking his eyes over her.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” she murmurs, low enough that only Jane can hear. God when did she turn into such a pathetic loser, anyway?

“Well, hello there, I’m Peter. Peter Quill, people call me Star-Lord,” Peter says, charming smile lighting up his face as he straightens up to his full height, leather jacket creaking. It was a nice leather jacket, all swishy and long, it was a trope she admired in heroes and space cowboys. Were there cows in space? Like Pigs in Space but more bovine-y?

He’s tall, they are all tall really, everyone but her and Jane, his movements are leisurely, an almost giddy look crossing his face. His fingers tap out some rhythm only he can hear. A pair of gross looking old school headphones hang around his neck.

“Was your mother Meredith Quill from Missouri?” Darcy blurts out and mentally face palms. God, awkward much.

“Hey…what?” Star-Lord asks, smile slipping from his face.

In for a penny, in for…well, a really bad decision.

“Meredith Quill? Just answer the question please,” Darcy says, curling her hands into fists.

“Listen, sweet cheeks, I don’t know where you got my mom’s name from but you-”

“Oh, thank god, or Thor. Whatever.”

“What the hell is going on?”

“I’m your sister.”

“My sister? I don’t-”

“Darcy.”

Darcy’s never been great at keeping her thoughts to herself, her mouth didn’t so much have a mind of it’s own and no mind at all. Or at least no sense of self preservation. Later she will swear it was like somebody flipped a switch in her brain, and instead of what she planned to say words tumble from her mouth in an unstoppable torrent. “I was only a few months old when you…disappeared. The same day she died…I..I’m sorry…

“You should…you should know that there’s an empty grave, with your name carved into the stone beside Meredith’s…mom’s. I was six when they had the funeral for you. I didn’t cry but Grandpa did.

“When I was little I always wanted to believe you were on an adventure. Went to be a spy, or joined the circus, to find your dad, maybe find my dad, Go find dinosaurs in California or space camp. I guess that last one is half true, ‘cause here you are. I dreamed that you would come back for me, so I could meet you, but you never did.”

“Now, wait just a minute—”

“I waited my whole life.” Tears well in her eyes but they do not spill. She doesn’t know his face, doesn’t know him. She didn’t know what she expected of this meeting, not from the moment she heard Thor say ‘Peter Quill, he that calls himself the Lord of the Star’, nay, the Star-Lord.’ Small galaxy after all. God, way to make an introduction, D. fuck.


“This really isn’t funny,” Peter says eyes narrowing, tension vibrating.


“Good,” she says withdrawing her hand from her pocket. Her iPod sits cradled in her palm, the cord of the earbuds an impossible knot. “Here,” she says, dropping the iPod into his hand and curling his fingers around it.

“What the hell?”

She doesn’t look back. An action hero missing an explosion, except really she’s just a background character in someone else story. Darcy pushes past a blur of blue and red and a second of red and silver before she realises the world is blurred from the tears in her eyes. The tears staining her glasses.

“Oh, Darcy,” Jane says, chasing after Darcy and wrapping her thin arms around Darcy’s shoulders. A limpet in the guise of a tiny astrophysicist.  

“I don’t know what I expected,” she tells Jane, blinking rapidly. “I think I probably should have stayed on the Technicolour Dream Bridge, or Earth. Earth is safe and there’s beer.”

“If you stayed on earth you wouldn’t have gotten to meet Heimdall, or get Instagram worthy pics of Steve’s ass in costume,” Jane says helpfully.

Darcy gives out a watery laugh, “God, I hate crying, do you think today can be over now? If I promise to buy Thor  a beer will he let me blow my nose on his cape?”

“Darce.”