Chapter Text
Entering the Stark-vengers Tower every morning is intimidating for even the most powerful men and women in the world. Even if Darcy was an exception to this rule, and she was, everyone has a part to play.
So instead of wearing her comfiest sweater and rattiest jeans (that were 15 percent less fabric than most jeans), she had to be "smart business casual" or "casual business formal" (whatever that meant). Apparently, the twenty-something could hardly show up to work for a multi-billion dollar organization without showing at least a modicum of effort. Darcy's approximation of an adult wardrobe was a relatively conservative business casual skirt and red blouse.
Her rebellious streak insisted that she still wore her knit hats, a frumpy charcoal cardigan to match the skirt, and hipsteriest glasses. To add an extra touch of “I am a competent 21st century woman, hear me roar”, Darcy came in with an Iced Venti Coconut-Milk Double Dirty Chai in her left fist, brandished like a taser meant to ward people out of her personal space. Morning people suck, she thought ungenerously, especially on Tuesday mornings.
She quickened her pace, trying to avoid touching any of the corporate folk in fear of their cooties.
Passing by the main reception area, she calls out a “Heya, Charlie,” putting all of her pre-caffeine energy into greeting the middle aged African American woman stationed at reception today. “How’s the whine and twine club?”
Darcy found about this knitting social club when she asked about the rainbow patterned baby onesie that the older woman had created slowly over the course of a week. Darcy has been trying to get into the knitting circle ever since. It was comprised of nothing but administrative staff and some lower-middle management of Stark Tower. They had the best baked goods, and even better gossip. The evilest part of Darcy’s mind cackled quietly to itself at this knowledge.
“Oh, Darcy-dear,” the woman drawled in her surprisingly deep voice, “You know you have to hit at least your one year anniversary and bribe us with something good to get in.” The woman hardly looked up from a morning crossword before delivering this well-worn admonishment.
Darcy’s exaggerated huff only brought a smirk to the older woman’s face. “I’m going to be the first exception,” Darcy said shook her right fist at the woman, the effect ruined by the bright pink lanyard holding her staff ID wrapped around her small hand. She turned her body to maintain a line-of-sight while still shaking her fist, walking backward precariously but quickly on her matte red pumps, “Just you watch me!”
The only response she got was a quick laugh and the swoosh of security gates opening up behind her just in time to prevent her from causing an accident. People swarmed into lines away from Darcy’s, in a well learned fear response that recognized that just because there was no accident, scene or other mayhem today did not mean that the petite brunette wouldn’t be causing something the next day.
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The elevators that led up to the Avengers were not far out of the way from normal tower traffic. In that way, it lulled a lot of people into the false notion that the top most floors of the tower were easily accessible. Those people were stupidly wrong.
Darcy, having worked here for close to six months, could tell that there were more sensors in the small strip of hallway than most G8 governments used in their respective major spy agencies. She could see the subtle glint of video cameras, carefully hidden in light fixtures and in corners of glass panes. And that’s all anybody like Darcy Lewis would see unless they had exceptional skills or training. Darcy saw more than most people would think.
The elevator dinged open, revealing a sleek silver and wood interior. “Morning Jay-man,” she spoke sipping at the green straw. “How’s it hanging?” There was the barest hint of reluctance present about asking that question.
“The usual, Ms. Lewis,” came a smooth voice from inside the elevator.
If one were an outsider, one would assume that Jarvis’s greeting was rather abrupt. They might even assume that Darcy was being somewhat reserved towards the artificial intelligence. That was not the case at all.
The first Monday of Darcy’s official status as a member of Team SCIENCE! (Formal title: Senior Research Administrator for Special Projects reporting directly to Pepper Potts), Darcy had walked into the Research and Development division excited and nervous about her first day. What she found was Jane, Bruce and Tony all nearly manic from sciencing for close to 40 hours straight. There were three explosions, a completely decimated snack cupboard, five lab assistants quitting at once, two sexual harassment complaints, an unstable wormhole, and one completed prototype of a genetically modified virus that would theoretically inoculate astronauts against most harmful space radiation. And that had been the first 45 minutes of her walking through the doors.
Darcy’s melt down that evening was the stuff of legends.
So, in order to at least give the other advanced warning of the kind of day they could expect, Darcy and Jarvis created a system of coded phrases for each other. It also had the added bonuses of being seemingly innocuous to outsiders so as to not cause any panic if there was an emergency. It was a simple system that takes the perceived danger of on-going projects against the average number of hours of sleep. There were even special modifiers for the number of significant others present, number of mad-geniuses in the area, and if the Hulk had made an appearance in the last 24 hours.
‘The usual, Ms. Lewis’ told her that a moderate amount of sleep and danger was to be expected. If the response to her usual morning greeting was ever, ‘Everything is fine, Ms. Lewis’, she had a 15 page action plan for handling tower safety ready and alerts scheduled to automatically go out to Shield, the Federal Emergency Management Agency, and local law enforcement. If Darcy ever asks “Jarvis, could you give me a reminder to call my mother tonight?” This means she has noticed an equally high probability of disaster that the AI should be aware of. It might even secretly trigger a kill-switch for the power to the labs most prone to destruction that she sweet talked (badgered) Jarvis into making.
Darcy breathed out a sigh of relief at the pronouncement of a relative all-clear. “Sounds about right. Thanks, Jay. Science team update, please.” She pauses for a second before adding, “Exclude non-priority scientists unless whatever it is they are doing is going to make me flip a shit.”
“No non-priority scientists to report, Ms. Lewis.” Oooh, is that some disapproval about cussing I hear, Darcy thinks. She responded only by lifing her eyebrow with a slight smirk. Jarvis didn’t respond to the gesture.
He continued on, “Dr. Foster is still awake in her secondary lab on Level 2 of the R&D.” Darcy let out a groan. She put away her lanyard and whipped out her cellphone, typing a text to the Foster monkeys on Level 2 to get some chamomile tea and energy bars ready for her arrival. Sleep deprived scientists are best approached with food and hot beverages. She completed her text and looked up again.
“Dr. Banner entered sleep 3 hours and 51 minutes ago. His alarm is scheduled to go off in approximately 8 more minutes.” She shrugs, That is more than yesterday.
“Jarvis, be a doll and delay that alarm by an additional 2 hours.” She fired off a text to the Banner toads, letting them know to close down any ongoing projects at appropriate stopping points according to lab protocol. She also texted the owner of the Thai place a few blocks down the street. Bruce is usually a sucker for their Panang Curry, so that should assuage any ire from being forced to sleep a little longer and take a chill-pill on the science for the day. She mumbled when she was ready for the next update.
“Finally, Mr. Stark is still in Paris with Ms. Potts for the technology symposium. They are scheduled to return this evening at 7pm.” Darcy nods contentedly to herself, grateful that she didn’t have to worry about keeping Tony in line with Pepper around. On the plus, Tony doesn’t keep assistants in his personal workshop nor his official work labs, so no one to heckle there.
She looked up to the ceiling, “When was last time Tony had dinner alone with Pepper? And when was the last time the brothers three got a doggie bath?” she asks.
“Sir and Ms. Potts had dinner together before their departure to Paris three days ago.” If Darcy were a betting girl, and she was, she would say there was a slight hint of amusement in his answers then. “You, Butterfingers and Dum-E were given full service three weeks ago by Agent Romanoff.”
The red-headed Russian had a strange fondness for the three simpler AIs, claiming them as her unofficial minions. Personally, Darcy thought she did it to lure the AIs to her side when she needed to get payback against Tony’s inevitable jack-assery.
“Coolio, Jay-man,” she replied. “Send an email to Pepper for me, would ya? Send her the standard updates and follow up with if she wants to join the Avengers dinner or a night in alone with Tony.” Jarvis gave no response, because he probably had already done so. He was good that way.
“Status check on all the rest, please and thank you.” She inquired while pulling up her heavily redacted Facebook account on her Stark phone.
Though there was no way Stark elevators would ever take this long to reach their destination, Jarvis slowed it down for their morning elevator chat. This gave her enough time to enjoy her drink, social media and get necessary updates on the most important people in her life. The average morning elevator ride was 2 minutes and 42 seconds long. Her record, so far, had been 5 minutes and 52 seconds in the elevator before she arrived to the top floors. She had gotten distracted … for reasons.
“Prince Thor is still asleep in his quarters, nothing has been scheduled to suggest when he might rise. Agent Romanoff and Agent Coulson are scheduled to be in Shield all day preparing for a World Security Council update on the Avengers Initiative scheduled next week. Agent Barton is currently on mission in a classified location,” Jarvis paused briefly at this announcement. This was his way of signaling to her that, if she asked, he would start making subtle probes into highly classified information to find out for her. She just nodded and kept scrolling on her phone. “Captain Rogers should be returning from his 15 mile run shortly.”
She switched out of Facebook quickly to the Stark messenger app. She texted the kitchens to send half a dozen chocolate, chocolate-chip muffins to the lobby because Steve seriously needed calories after a workout.
Jarvis continued when she finished her text, “Finally, barring emergencies and current assignments, evenings are free for the normal tower dinner.”
She then brought up her contact labeled “Agent Still Not Forgiven”, and sent him a text with a simple “Dinner @ 7:30pm in common room. Will cook if u get Vengers there by 6:15pm. I’ll handle Tony – Darcy.”
She actually had that exact text saved, ready to be resent almost every day. Darcy’s not-so-secret superpower was using food to get what she wanted. Even Agent Sarcasm had been succumbing to her ways. The others had already fallen in-line nicely.
Darcy switched back to her newsfeed, mumbled out a thanks while slurping up the final dregs of the Starbucks slop. She “liked” yet another college friend getting engaged whose wedding she would never go to. “Ugh, Facebook engagement announcement posts are the worst,” she thought out loud.
“Indeed, Ms. Lewis,” now he was just straight up making fun of her.
She rolled her eyes, packing away her phone, “You wanna marry me, Jay? The reaction on Tony’s face to the news would be the best thing since memes were invented.”
“Unfortunately, I do not harbor romantic intentions towards you. So, I am afraid I will have to decline,” the sass level in that was pretty high.
She smiled her most innocent, thousand-watt smile, “Your loss.” No one ever believed that smile. “Also, if your server gets flooded with cute baby animal videos later today, it was definitely not me.”
“Of course, Ms. Lewis.”
She stops smiling, a fake serious pout taking its place, “One of these days, you are going to call me Darcy and I fear my brain may explode.” She felt the elevator begin to slow.
Dryer than the lips of a nervous teenage boy before his first kiss, he replied, “That would be most unfortunate.”
The elevator arrived into the open and white hallways of the 1st floor of R&D. She exited the elevator while her brightly painted lips quirked up into the slightest smirk, a look that lab minions everywhere had come to learn to love and fear. She tossed out the Starbucks cup into recycling, with the slightest mental note to make it a triple-dirty chai the next day.
“Have a good day, Ms. Lewis” she heard faintly from the closing doors behind her.
“I always do, Jay-man,” she responded confidently. Almost nothing could worry the young woman. Darcy Lewis was ready for anything.