Work Text:
“Nick, there are people watching!”
“Does it look like I give a damn, Lewis?”
Darcy threw her hands up, placing them on her hips once they were done communicating how exasperated she was. You would be too, if your boss dragged you away from a perfectly healthy lunch of chocolate muffins and cinnamon tea, only to bring you to the gym. Nick – the smug bastard – wasn’t exactly smiling, per se, but he was definitively looking like the cat who ate the canary and his entire family. She was right though; there were a lot of people watching. Why SHIELD felt the need to have windows looking into their gym was still unbeknownst to her, even with that high a clearance. Tell you how Stalin really died? Sure! Windows? Nah. Figure that one out in your own time.
“Dude..!” She said, not really sure were to go with it. “Put your abs away,” She settled on – it seemed as good as anything else.
“It will help your training,” His voice was gruff. Like, the definition of gruff. Like, if you looked it up in a diction-
“You’re talking out loud, Lewis.”
“It’s not like you can blame me for being distracted!” Darcy cried, shamelessly ogling the muscles. They moved very nicely when he sighed, like, they contracted and then –
“Lewis!”
“Sorry! It’s just – like… How?” She collapsed on the mat; not really giving a shit about the look Nick was sending her. It was that look, you know the one. The one that convinced Agent Romanov that Americans weren’t all ‘spineless men who do not understand the importance of respect’.
“How what?” He sighed, having worked long enough with Darcy to know when it was best to just give in.
“You sit behind a desk all day –“
“Jesus Christ, am I seriously not teaching you how to defend yourself because of my abdominal muscles? And I do not sit behind a desk all day.” The agents watching from the windows were having a really weird day; for one: they’d seen Director Fury sighing, and two: he was now pinching the bridge of his nose and huffing.
“And the baby oil,” Darcy supplied, not bothering to comment on the last bit. She knew very well how he spend most of his days, she just didn’t like thinking about it. Nick, on the other hand, had never been more grateful he’d turned of the surveillance in this room. Some of he psychiatrists had insisted on it when they brought in Romanov – then Romanova -, fearing a psychotic break once she saw the training equipment. Yeah, they weren’t working for SHIELD anymore.
“Don’t you dare forget the baby oil.”
“I am not – it’s a specialized oil, designed to simulate blood or any other slippery texture, so that we can best emulate a real situation.” He explained patiently, crossing his arms over his chest. Darcy smirked, staring at the biceps when she spoke.
“It’s baby oil.”
“It’s a specializ – “
“Fine, it’s really expensive baby oil,” Darcy snorted, getting up to her feet again. It took more flailing than she’d ever admit too. There may or may not have been a fond look in his eye when she finally managed to stand, but nobody would ever be able to prove that. (Only because there wasn’t a scientific way of measuring butterflies in your stomach yet. Stark Industries was working it.)
“Is that how you sold it to the WSC when you requested funding?” Darcy laughed at his disgruntled look – the only one in the entire damn organization capable of that feat.
“Just get in position,” He muttered, watching as Darcy squared her legs and straightened her back.
“Most people would have stared at my tits by now,”
“You honestly think you’d have noticed that, Lewis?” Darcy decided to ignore that for the sake of her own libido and sanity, knowing full well she didn’t any more reasons on the I’m-such-a-cliché-I’m-falling-for-my-older-boss-list.
“How do you even get your voice that flat?” She cocked her head to the side, an easy smile playing at her lips.
“Dwight Schrute is my spirit animal,” He answered, eye narrowed. He began circling her on the mat, pleased to note she was following him easily while still keeping an eye on the exits.
“Really? Would have thought you more of a Michael Scott-guy.” Darcy was very impressed with herself, mostly how she managed not to collapse in laughter by the look on his face. Aghast didn’t even begin to cover it.
“You take that back.”
“Or maybe Stanley…” Darcy pondered, shrieking when he slipped a foot behind her knee, making her fall on her back. She was still giggling when he said the words that would change their relationship forever.
“Please,” Nick rolled his eyes, “Coulson is Stanley,” He was grinning now, and that was right about the time the agents behind the glass decided to get the fuck out of there, deciding to catch the Director in action on an actual mission, as he was far less likely to be grinning then.
“Hill is Angela,” Darcy got up again, noting she had something akin to grace this time. Practice makes… adequate?
“Y’know who Stark is?” Nick blocked her high-kick easily, catching her shin in his hand.
“Who?” She laughed, slightly breathless. Nick was tracing circles on her leg, moving up towards her knee. His hand was calloused, rough from years of fighting. This was so inappropriate, but still… there was something in his eye that made her think he knew and didn’t mind at all.
“Todd Pecker,” He dropped her leg, laughing at her grimace.
“Oh god,” Darcy sat down at the mat again, smiling to herself when he joined her. Then again, that might have been the baby oil still glistening in an obscene and distracting manner. “Pepper deserves better than that,”
“Or maybe he’s Bob Vance, you know. With the need to have his name everywhere.”
“Does that make Pepper Phyllis?”