#oh.my.god. the butterfly kicks

[ck90]

That Thing He Does

So I saw the @shieldshockfanfic repost about the price for fortune telling being a cute #shieldshock and this happened. I’m sure it’s been done a gazillion times before but what can I say, it was a thorn on my side until I wrote it.

I haven’t done a full edit but did do a pretty so go figure. This is also my first ShieldShock so [insert neurotic, caffeine-addled, feelings of panic].

EDIT: You all are so awesome, feelings of panic subsided enough to put this on 

AO3 

“Dammit.” Darcy grabbed the bottle of Zoya and removed the polish from her toe for like the twelfth time. Okay, it was only the third, but it felt like a baker’s dozen.

“How in hell did they do that?” She swiped at the various images of the most amazing, beautiful, marvelous painted toes she’d ever seen in her life. And she couldn’t do any of them.

She’d tried. There were instructions and videos, but it quickly became apparent that her artistic skills were limited to stick figures with crooked lines.

What she really needed was a pedicure, but as much as the thought of one was amazing, the idea of some stranger touching her feet just gave her the willies. Not to mention throwing money she could ill-afford to spend on an indulgent luxury was out of the question.

So she was on some floor of the Stark Tower, there were so many she couldn’t keep track and didn’t bother to, on a couch that was more comfortable than her own bed and undoubtedly cost more than her whole wardrobe combined painting or attempting to paint her toenails.

“Unreal.” She enlarged an image. “Dark sorcery, that’s what it is and mere mortals can just suck it.”

“Problem?”

Darcy looked up and just, Dayummm, that man. Super Soldier. All-American yumminess that made the butterflies in her stomach take flight. Talk about mere mortal faced with sorcery.

“What?” Her brain will eventually reboot from that quick trip to Pervyville.

Steve, leaning against the doorframe ducked his head and looked at tablet clutched at her chest and the nail polish bottles littering the coffee table she’d moved closer to the sofa.

Oh. Yeah.

“Nah. Just,” she waved at the mess, “trying to do the impossible when you’re not a contortionist and have no artistic talent is hilariously quixotic.”

His brow arched and she deflated.

“I want pretty toes and can’t do it.” She wasn’t pouting. She wasn’t! Just looking longingly at the pretty pictures.

“Want some help?”

She looked up. When did he move from the door to the sofa? Was super speed part of his skill set now, too? Her toes shriveled into the sofa, hiding from the source of light that sat down next to her. Not that she was thinking Steve was light because, he was just a man, right? A pretty, pretty man.

“I’ve picked up a pencil a time or two.”

Wait. He was offering to paint her toenails? Did she get sucked into an alternate universe and didn’t know it? Those pretty blues were doing things to her.

“Uh.”

He leaned over a tad, not touching because he’s forever aware of the impropriety, and looked at the tablet on her lap.

“Those are very artistic.”

“Uh.” She blinked. Earth to Darcy! “Yeah. I wasn’t really trying for those, just, you know, the basics like actually painting.”

He nodded. “One color or two?”

“Two.” Came out in a squeak. She didn’t even know her voice could do that.

“Trust me?” He was looking at her so soft and earnestly.

With. My. Life. Yes, a thousand times, yes!

“Uh huh.”

He was staring at her expectantly and Darcy finally realized he was waiting for her to bring her feet out of the cushions of the sofa. God, she hoped they weren’t baskets of fuzz nearing sentience. She lifted a foot near him and to her eternal astonishment, he picked up both of her legs and placed them across his lap.

This was the same man who was also so careful around her. Always making sure not to touch her, even accidentally, never mind in a friendly casual manner, that she actually thought he found her kinda repulsive. I mean, she got it, her mouth had a way of saying things before her brain could filter it and he was an old-fashioned type of guy who was used to proper ladies. But she’d never felt so trollish as when in the presence of Captain America.

“Those your paints?” He was looking at the case with enough polish to paint every toe in the Eastern Seaboard and that included the men, too.

Darcy nodded. “Steve?” God, those blues of his were so…drownable. “You’re touching my feet.” More than her feet actually, her calves here firmly on his thighs and his chest was pressing lightly against them in order to look at the nail polish on the table.

The masculine muscles, and there were so, so many, blanketing her calves tensed. “Is that okay?”

Is it okay? Dude. I want to use you as my own personal, preferably naked, blanket for the rest of my life.

“Uh huh.” Thank God the filter worked for once. Might not be fully coherent but it didn’t spew the things she was thinking. “Is it okay with you?”

His hand brushed the top of one foot, before holding it. It was almost a caress. “They are nice feet, Darcy.” His mouth tightened and eyes closed as his head dipped to his chest and his shoulders kinda folded on to themselves.

“Well, they’re my little piggies so I’m kinda okay with them.” A soft huff escaped his lips as they hitched up. “You’re hands are…” warm, soft, strong, making me melt…“nice.”

“So this is okay?”

Uh, yeah. “More than okay.”

He gave her calf a gentle squeeze before turning back to the polish. “What colors would you like?”

“Do anything you want.” So much for the filter working. Did his ears just turn a little pink? Totally worth her own embarrassment.

“Anything?” His voice was low and a little husky.

It gave her ideas. Pervyville meet your new mayor, Darcy Lewis. She swallowed. “Sure.” Her voice did not squeak. It didn’t!

“Don’t look,” he said. “I want it to be a surprise.”

The man could ask her to go piss off Banner and she’d do it in a heartbeat. “Okay.” She picked up the tablet and started scrolling. “Can we still talk?”

Not if he continued kneading her arch with the hand that was not painting, they couldn’t. God, it felt so good, she bit off a moan. Because that would have been inappropriate.

“What do you want to talk about?”

You. Naked in my bed? Thank God the filter was semi-functional. “Do you know what happened in Budapest?”

Steve laughed. “I think they are just messing with everyone.”

“Yeah,” she smiled, “that would totally be something they’d do.” Silence settled between them and it was surprisingly comfortable. She was still trying to think of something to say, what could she have in common with a gorgeous superhero.

Turns out they had a lot in common. Love for coffee. Movies. Books. And he kept massaging her foot with strong, nimble fingers so it’s not her fault her eyes drifted close and she enjoyed the fucking moment. And then he did that thing.

He lifted her foot near his mouth and blew. It couldn't be helped. The jolt of electrical - okay, fine, sexual - energy surged through her and her leg jerked. Would have probably kicked him in the face if he hadn’t been holding on so securely.

“Darcy?” His eyes looked pained with worry and the grip on her foot tightened. “You okay?”

What was her name again? Right. “Uh. Huh.” Yes. Her voice was actually squeaking. She dropped her eyes before something embarrassing happened. Like her having an orgasm because he was blowing that warm, intimate breath on her damn toes. Which led her to thinking what it would feel like against other parts of her body.

“Want me to stop.”

“God, no.” Hard to clear your throat when it's rough and tight. “I mean, not unless you want to.”

He stroked her foot and if that wasn’t caress, she’d eat Tony’s stupid suit. The small one, not the Hulkbuster.

“I’m only halfway done.”

Yeah. If she made it out of this room without jumping him, it will be a flipping miracle.

“Okay.”

She knew he was nice. Of course, Captain America would be nice, but Steve Rogers is so goddamn adorably sweet and funny and smart. He makes her laugh and she’s thrilled that she could return the favor to the point he had to stop painting, eyes crinkling shut and hand on his chest. She fell a little in love with him right there and then.

Okay. More than a little but who’s counting.

The thing was after this, she wouldn’t be able to go back to the way they were before. It would crush her to know this Steve and have to go back to the formal, perfect gentleman and rather cold Avenger.

“Can we stay like this?” It comes out of her mouth before she can think about it.

“Like what?”

“Friends.”

He looked up. “I thought we were friends, Darcy.”

Her head moves slowly side to side. “No. You were polite. Nice. But there were times I thought you could barely stay in the same room I was in, much less stand near me.”

The hand massaging her foot stilled. “I’m sorry, Darcy. It wasn’t about you, it was about me.”

What was that supposed to mean? Should she ask? Did she want to know or would it be something she’d be better off not knowing like that inter-dimensional portal to a zombie world that opened up in Jersey of all places? It got handled quickly but…ew, gross.

“Oh.”

“I like this,” he said. “I,” the corded muscles of his throat stood out when he swallowed thickly. “like you.”

He did? “You do?”

His lips curved up into a soft smile. “Yeah. I do.”

Her heart skipped a beat. Or twelve. Who needs a regular rhythm anyway?

“I like you, too, Steve.”

They just stayed like that smiling at each other until she felt the heat blossom from her cheeks down her neck to her chest and…Oh.My.God. Her brain short-circuited. It just did.

She didn’t know how long it took for her to remember to breathe, but she finally managed, and her face finally felt like it wasn’t doing its best impersonation of a tomato. She was finally back to normal. Or as normal as she could be with Steve Rogers touching her and massaging her foot.

And then he did that thing he did. Again. Bringing the other foot near his mouth and blew.

Jesus on a pogo stick!

Her whole body shuddered. God, she wanted to do dirty, inappropriate things to this man when he does that thing he does.

Her eyes met his and there was merriment and something dark and promising. Hell. He knew, had known the whole time what he’d been doing to her. Or maybe he was just making sure that he was actually doing that thing that made her throw caution to the wind.

“If you don’t like it, I can do something else.”

Huh? He pointed to her toes. Her beautiful, marvelous, amazing toes in blue with stars, one toe in each foot was red with stars. He’d used that damn glittery silver polish that she’d loved but couldn't put on her nails without making them look stubby.

Red, silver, and blue, huh? Either that was a hint, shut up, she’s not thinking all that clearly, or she’s going to have to move to a cave on the other side of the world.

Darcy gently tugged her foot his grasp and scooted closer until her butt was flush to his thigh and she was practically sitting on his lap.

“Darcy.” That voice again, low and husky and full of promise. “Want to get coffee with me sometime?”

She’s almost on top of him and he wants coffee? Hell no.

“No.”

He stiffened and his eyes turned into that soft, lost puppy dog look. “No?”

“Dinner,” she said. She should have left it that, but that damn filter. “And breakfast.”

He swallowed. “Most important meal of the day.”

“Uh. Huh.” Her hand traced his jawline before settling against his cheek. This man was carved from granite. She always wanted to be a geologist.

Darcy leaned forward until they were sharing breathing space, their mouths a whisper apart.

“Do you want me to stop?” She really, really hoped he didn’t.

“Hell no.” He closed the distance, lips covering hers and did that thing he does.