Chapter Text
“Foster! Tell me about your rainbow bridge to Alientown.”
Tony Stark swept into the Royal Observatory at Greenwich like he owned the place.
Was there really any other way for a self-made superhero to enter a room? Darcy thought not.
“I’m a huge fan of the way you bend the universe to your will and I want in. How much do you need to build all the alien tech to recreate the results of the Convergence in a controlled, highly secure setting in an observatory of your very own back in the States? Stacks of cash are yours for the taking, Dr. Cosmos.”
Darcy clicked the button to advance to the next slide of Jane’s presentation with every intention of carrying on. It’s not like anything could dissuade Jane from science anyway, barring Thor without a shirt.
“Man of Iron!” the god boomed, rising from his seat at the rear of the lecture hall, Mew-mew in hand. His stool tipped over and clattered against the wall like a bundle of broken matchsticks. He turned and looked down on it in that way he had sometimes, as if constantly disappointed in how poorly crafted everything of Midgard was because it so rarely survived him.
They were never ever going to discuss what he and Jane did to Darcy’s futon that time, either. Darcy was gone for no more than two hours and came home from running errands to find a pile of debris where once a perfectly serviceable hand-me-down futon had been. Beside it stood a sad-faced Thor, covered from jaw to shoulder in hickies and his last surviving T-shirt, torn at the neck and hanging from the other shoulder by a lonely thread.
“Volstagg can repair most anything,” her contrite alien bro promised. He wasn’t wrong and Darcy’s new futon was alien aces with all the extra magical sleepy additions, but she never wanted to contemplate what extinction-level sexytimes event led to its destruction in the first place. Not. Ever.
“Are we doing this?” she asked Jane when the pieces of Thor’s former stool settled, pointing to the laptop projector, then to Ironman, “Or that?”
Jane straightened her most professional flannel shirt and set down the dry erase marker she’d been using to illustrate the math behind her Convergence Practicum. “This isn’t the best time, Mr. Stark. As you can see, I have a prior engagement.” She indicated the rapt-attention of those in the lecture hall, filled to capacity with students and faculty. “If you’d like to make an appointment—” she gestured to Darcy, “my assistant can set up a meeting in a more appropriate venue—”
“Assistants get paid,” Darcy grumbled, flipping open the day planner she had to start using when requests for Jane’s time began piling up faster than she could keep track on the stained desk blotter they’d always used for important dates and events in the past. Not that they had many pressing meetings. Like, ever. Not before Jane’s real deal Einstein-Rosen Bridge became practical rather than theoretical, and Jane's involvement in saving Earth from the Convergence turned her into an overnight scientific sensation and the hottest ticket on the academic lecture circuit. Their recent involvement in the Convergence wasn't doing much to open any free time on Darcy's social calendar, either. Ugh. She missed her favorite jack-booted thugs.
“Stark House, tonight, say eight o’clock? Bring the plucky sidekick and the god. We’ll make it a group thing. I heard Barton’s in town.”
“With Romanov,” Darcy sneered, just to see if Stark would reconsider. Nat didn’t speak particularly kindly of Stark when he came up in conversation.
“I’ll tell Pep to get Banner and Cap on the jet. We’ll make it a party,” the billionaire promised blithely, snatching Jane’s red laser pointer from the lectern and twirling it between his fingers as he paced a long oval path at the front of the room like a shark scenting blood in the water.
“I’ve got a late class, but thanks for the plucky sidekick invite, anyway.” Darcy closed the planner and pointedly turned her back on Stark to talk to Jane. “I’ll go make those calls to Barton and Romanov, if you don’t need me, boss.”
“Yeah, thanks, Darce. That’s fine. Um… I need to…” Jane spun in a circle, looking for something until Darcy reached out and crammed the projector remote into her fist.
“Don’t let him steamroll you." Darcy whispered to her boss and friend. "Nat says that’s why he gets away with so much.”
“Come to dinner after class?” Jane begged. “I’ll text you directions.”
Darcy snorted. “I know where to find Stark House, London, Jane.”
“Yeah, yeah…” her boss mumbled in response, already distracted by science as Tony scrawled formulae in the margins on the whiteboard behind Jane's presentation.
With a smirk for Stark, Darcy flounced out of the lecture hall, running down the stairs and almost right over a man in an Air Force uniform leaning against a sporty blue two-seater with his arms crossed. He looked familiar. Hotter than three hells, but familiar, too.
“I know you,” she said, slowing as she approached the schmancy car. She glanced down the main hall of the observatory and back at the man in uniform. “War Machine?” she guessed.
The man sighed. “I go by Iron Patriot these days; Colonel James Rhodes. Friends call me Rhodey. Most friends,” he amended, holding out a hand to shake even as he rolled his eyes. “Tony resorts to name-calling nine times out of ten, so…”
She laughed as she accepted the offered hand, noting the pattern of calluses Nat taught her to expect from trained military operatives. “Yeah, I get that. Stark seems like a handful.”
“You have no idea.” Rhodes huffed, muttering something unintelligible under his breath.
Dude, you don’t even know, Darcy thought. “I have some idea. I ride herd on Dr. Jane Foster when I'm not in class.”
He looked at her with a new kind of appreciation, something akin to respect. “Best friend or the reluctant sidekick with more common sense than the genius breaking the laws of physics?”
She barked a laugh. “Both!”
Shaking his head, he cracked a wry smile. “I hear that. Nice to meet you, … ?”
“Darcy Lewis,” she answered, nodding in greeting and clutching her books to her chest.
“Nice to meet you, Darcy Lewis. Welcome to the Sidekicks Club. We've gotta get matching jackets made or something.” His smile grew. He laid a hand on the passenger door handle. “You got anywhere to be? I’m going to be waiting a while. Might as well see some of London while we're here.”
“I’ve gotta call Hawkeye and Widow to set up a thing with Janie and Stark for later, but I’m free until my late class at six. What do you have in mind?”
“A burger and a pint. Knowing Barton, he’s already staked out the best place to get both in London. You interested?”
“Definitely.” She ran a finger along the white pinstripe over electric blue. “Gonna give me a ride in this pretty little toy?”
“Sure thing.” The passenger door swung wide with a flourish. He held out a hand to help her in.
"Thanks." Darcy set her bag in the space behind the seat, tucking her booted feet into the minuscule footwell. “You sure you won’t be missed?” She worried her lip, glancing back at the observatory.
“Nah.” He waved away her concern. “He can make a nuisance of himself for hours, arguing over Foster’s math. He's been making noises at Pepper about recruiting Dr. Foster to SI since news of the Convergence made it to New York late last year. Thor’ll keep him from running Foster off the continent for a few hours.”
“You know Thor well?”
“Well enough. Probably not as well as you do, Little Lightning Sister.”
She groaned and banged the back of her head on the headrest. “How many people did he tell that story?”
“Pretty much everyone who will listen.” Rhodey chuckled. “Don’t think Wilson’s heard it yet, if that’s any consolation.”
“Who’s Wilson? New super friend?”
“The guy with the wings in D.C. this spring. Goes by Falcon.”
“Hm. Yeah, we saw that on the news. Barton was here for an overnight on his way somewhere classified. You should’ve seen his face when the files hit the net and Nat’s texts finally came through all at once.”
“I can't imagine.” He shook his head ruefully as he turned in his seat and backed out of the drop-off area. “Romanov worked undercover as Tony’s assistant once. You ever heard that story?”
“Only the parts that made it onto TMZ and Perez Hilton.” She widened her eyes and grinned, sensing a kindred spirit with good dirt on the big heroes. “Tell me everything,” she demanded as they sped down the hill toward the city.
“Okay, so... Tony was dying from stubbornness and Fury couldn’t risk his golden goose…”