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“No, no, no.”
Darcy groaned, numb fingers rifling through the mess that was her handbag, desperately feeling for any sign of her keycard.
“Not again.”
It wasn’t bad enough that she was already dripping, sprayed with slush on the way home after a particularly rough day at the office. No, the universe had evidently decided that she needed to also be locked out of her apartment building with her keycard falling off her keyring and into the depths of her bag sometime between the office and the subway.
Darcy leaned her head against the glass of the door, hearing the thump as she tried to knock some sense into herself.
“I somehow doubt whatever you’re going through right now is worth the possible brain damage.”
Darcy spun around to find her neighbour staring at her with a look halfway between pity and amusement. Her very, very attractive neighbour, standing a full head above her own, kind blue eyes peering back at her.
“I uh, misplaced my key somewhere in this Mary Poppins hellscape…” she muttered, gesturing towards to purse.
“Mary Poppins, huh?” Steve chuckled, swinging his keyring into her view. “It’s all good, I’ve got mine right here. Rough day?”
“Rough season,” Darcy sighed. “Thanks, Steve.”
He offered a sad smile as he unlocked the front door for them, holding it open so she could enter first.
“Got any big plans for tonight?” Steve asked, probably just making friendly small talk.
But Darcy, in that split second, had to ask herself what day of the month it was, holding back a ‘shit’ as it clicked. December 24, also known as Christmas Eve. That day when families came together and ate turkey or ham or whatever the hell normal people did on these kinds of occasions.
She hadn’t had a normal family interaction in at least eight years, so Darcy wouldn’t really know.
“Um,” she tried to sound pensive instead of panicked, dreading turning what should have been a nice interaction into her own personal sob story. “No, actually. No plans for me.”
“Family out of town?”
More like out of her life, she wanted to clarify, but maybe that would come off too harshly for someone who didn’t know the fractured Lewis family’s history.
“We don’t see eye-to-eye,” Darcy sighed. “Normally I would celebrate with my friend Jane, but she’s out of the country with her boyfriend’s family, which leaves me…”
Alone. Darcy didn’t want to say the word out loud, watching as Steve’s smile slipped off his face. The damage had already been done.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“It’s fine,” Darcy said quietly. “It’s just the truth.”
It was in that split second that her step towards her door seemed to jostle the key in her purse into her hold. With a whispered, “Yes!” Darcy grabbed it and was ready to end this awkward —if not surprisingly pleasant— encounter.
But Steve seemed to have other plans, hovering outside his own door for a split second.
“Listen,” Steve started. “I know this is kind of last-minute, but do you want to join me for dinner? I have my Ma and some friends coming over, and we always make too much food.”
Darcy bit her lip, hesitating, “I couldn’t impose—”
“No imposition,” Steve assured her with a comforting smile. “Just friends coming together for a hot meal and company.”
Darcy couldn’t remember the last time she’d been invited over to someone’s place like this. Never like this exactly, never a casual Christmas Eve dinner invitation in hallways. Mostly obligatory roommate or friendly gatherings across town.
This kind of small-town gesture was something she’d never known and definitely wouldn’t have placed in the city.
“Sure,” Darcy said suddenly. “Mind if I bring dessert?”
“I’m not going to say no to that,” Steve chuckled. “Come on over in about two hours? I’ll leave the door open.”
Darcy couldn’t help but mirror his smile, “See you then.”
By the time she made it into her apartment, door closed swiftly behind her, her head was spinning with the order of operations.
Two hours. Couldn’t come empty-handed. Had to make something quick.
Tossing her bag, coat, and winter accessories onto her couch, Darcy pulled her hair back and go to work. Thankfully, she always had the ingredients for a good pumpkin pie on hand— the best pumpkin pie, actually. It had been her aunt’s recipe before hers, the one who’d taught her how to bake in the first place.
So, by the time the pie was cooling, Darcy had to scramble to look somewhat presentable. A swipe of red lipstick, a dress that didn’t smell like sewer water and road salt, and shoes that weren’t winter boots. It was almost nice to be going somewhere that didn’t involve a special layer of clothing to brave the weather.
And plus, she was only steps away from her apartment, should she need to escape.
Darcy hesitated out in the hallway for a few minutes, half wondering if she’d run into another one of the guests or if she’d be the last to arrive. She remembered Steve telling her to just come in, but she couldn’t help but knock first.
“Steve? It’s Darcy,” she called out, not seeing anyone in view of the entryway.
Steve’s head popped out from the hallway, “Hey! Come on in. Is that pie?!”
“Did you say pie?”
Steve barked a laugh at his friend’s awestruck tone, closing the gap between him and Darcy and freeing her of the pie tray. He beelined towards the kitchen with it in his grasp, looking a little too pleased. Darcy was just relieved he wasn’t one of those strange people who hated the dessert.
“You shouldn’t have trusted him with that, you know. He’d eat it with his hands if we let him,” a long-haired brunet joked as Darcy entered the living room. “I’m Bucky, by the way. It’s Darcy, right?”
“Right,” Darcy breathed, a little surprised at the scene in the living room. “Nice to meet you all.”
When Steve said friends and his mom, she didn’t think he meant a full house. But as her eyes swept across the room, taking in the motley crew of friends already sipping on drinks and lounging on the furniture, there was a second she felt out of place.
The heat was starting to rise to her cheeks when Steve’s voice cut through her concern.
“Oh, sorry, Darcy,” Steve called out, wiping his hands on his pants before gesturing around the room. “This is Bucky, Sam, Wanda, Clint, and my Ma, Sarah.”
Sarah was the first to chime in, “It’s nice to meet you, Darcy. Glad you could join us.”
“Thanks for having me,” Darcy said with a smile, turning to the rest of them.
Looking around, Darcy realized she’d met some of them —Sam and Clint in particular— in passing at other events people in the building had organized, usually at bars or restaurants. Sometimes the cafe Clint owned down the street. But never at his place.
“Sam and Clint, right? I think I saw you at the—”
“The Labour Day barbecue at the park, right? I thought you looked familiar,” Sam said with a broad, gap-toothed smile. “Nice to see you again.”
“Especially with pie,” Clint added with a smile. “I’m not sure if you’ve met Wanda before, but she works at the cafe. She’s my head baker, actually.”
“‘Actually?’ Like that’s surprising?” Wanda scoffed playfully. “Don’t mind him, Darcy. He’s just sad I didn’t bring his favourite kinds of pastries.”
“Yeah, well,” Clint grumbled.
“It’s not even your party!”
Steve poked his head out of the doorway to the kitchen like he was keeping an eye on them. Something told her these playful spats were typical for the group, hearing the swell of laughter from every corner of the room.
“Darcy, feel free to make yourself at home. I have a cooler full of drinks in the back corner there.”
Darcy nodded, not exactly mad at the prospect of snooping a little.
Sure, she’d snuck peeks when she dropped off his mail or the occasional misplaced delivery notice, but she’d never been inside his apartment. Not really. Not close enough to notice the framed sketchbook paper on the walls or the vinyl neatly shelved beside the record player. A couple of military medals were on display in a velvet-lined glass case on his oak desk.
And even though she’d never been here before, looking around, she could have guessed the apartment belonged to him.
It was all very Steve.
Darcy grabbed herself a beer from the cooler, weaving her way past the table and back towards the kitchen.
“Need help with anything?” she asked, leaning against the doorframe as she watched Steve slice into a ham.
“I wouldn’t say no to you dressing the salad, if you don’t mind.”
Darcy slid by him in the narrow galley kitchen, trying not to think too hard about her warning hand on his (muscular) upper back as she passed him to get to the bowl of lettuce, carrots, onions and tomatoes. He didn’t look up, but she caught him sneaking peeks from the corner of his eye. It wasn’t long into dressing and salting the salad before her thoughts were wandering away with her, wondering how he could maneuver around the kitchen at all.
She tried not to think too hard about how much broader Steve was than the average Brooklyn kitchen…
“You’re really focussed over there, huh?” Steve quipped over his shoulder, breaking her out of her thoughts.
Darcy shot him a playful grin, trying to will away the heat rising to her cheeks, “Salad’s serious business, Steve. The oil and vinegar ratio is make or break.”
“She’s not wrong, you know,” Sarah Rogers added, slipping into the kitchen to grab one of the prepared side dishes with a twinkle in her eye. “Not that you’d know. We’d be out of salt before you noticed it was too much, Steve.”
Darcy snorted at the jab, her stomach twisting at the blush that stretched all the way up to Steve’s ears as he grumbled, good-natured.
The rest of the group took turns bringing the rest of the serving plates to the table, sides, salads and mains, including a few vegetarian options— her bet was on Wanda for those.
Something about the warmth around the table, not from the food necessarily, made Darcy’s nerves melt away. Steve’s friends were great, treating her like they’d known her for years and not minutes, even stopping to clue her in on some of the long-standing jokes tossed around.
But it was Sarah who seemed the most intrigued by her. Darcy caught her eyes a few times between passed plates and serving spoons. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but there was something in her look Darcy couldn’t quite decode.
“So, where are you from, Darcy?” Sarah asked with a smile.
“Grew up in Maine,” Darcy replied, passing Sam the mashed potatoes. “Small town just north of Augusta.”
“Do you go back much?” Clint asked.
Darcy tried to keep her smile polite but couldn’t hold back the humourless laugh, “I left when I was eighteen and haven’t been back since, actually.”
Clint offered a knowing look and quickly changed the subject, “What do you do?”
“I’m a public defender. Passed the bar a few years back.”
“That’s a tough job.”
“It is,” Darcy said, turning to face Sarah, who had that same, motherly look on her face as she pressed forward.
“Did you always want to be a lawyer?” Sarah asked, pausing between forkfuls to watch her answer.
Darcy was certain in Steve’s expression across the table was an old one-liner he’d pulled out once before, at a bar down the road at a building mixer event. But that was before she had more context. Before she had known about Sarah and their little found family of friends.
‘My mom always says you can tell a lot about a person by their goals and aspirations in life.’
“I, uh,” Darcy hesitated, wondering if she was going to come off as insincere, but then realized Sarah would probably know the difference. “I knew I wanted to help people. To make the world a little better somehow. I figured it was a good way to do that.”
And there was that scrutinizing glance, the twitch in her lip staring back at her in that beat of silence.
“I like this girl, Steve,” Sarah said finally, clapping him on his (broad) back. “Good head on her shoulders. Big heart.”
Steve chuckled, bringing the last of the cutlery and plates into the kitchen. And Darcy let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding, smiling into her plate.
The rest of the evening devolved into a game of twenty questions, circling the table with interesting factoids about each of them. Somehow Darcy ended up where she always did, sneaking off into the kitchen to help rinse the plates and cutlery before placing them into the dishwasher.
“Steve mentioned you’re having a hard time with your parents.”
Darcy almost didn’t notice Sarah follow her in, taking over the dishwasher loading without a word.
“We, uh, we’re not on speaking terms. There was a lot that happened when I grew up, and moving away from home made me realize a few things,” Darcy said quietly, leaving out that what she’d learned was that families could be like this: loving, supportive, warm. “It’s a long story.”
But even between those few words, it was like Sarah could see right through to the heart of the issue as she reached over and gently clutched Darcy’s shoulder. Darcy tried hard not to lean into the closest thing she’d had to a comforting gesture in weeks (maybe months?) with back-to-back deadlines and the flurry of the city.
“Don’t ever change, sweetheart,” Sarah said finally, decisively with a couple soft pats. “Not a lick.”
Darcy couldn’t keep the smile on her face the rest of the way through rinsing and drying pots and pans, asking Sarah about her life in the city and what Steve was like growing up.
‘A whole lot of trouble,’ in case anyone wondered.
“Y’know, Darcy,” Clint called out from the dining room, making Darcy pop her head out of the kitchen to find a surprised-looking Steve standing in the doorway. “We’re doing a little get-together New Year’s Eve if you want to join?”
“Really?” Darcy looked up at Steve, not for permission per-say, but maybe approval.
But Steve simply nodded and leaned closer to her, “If you don’t have any plans.”
“I’d love to,” Darcy breathed.
Her throat felt a little tight at the sentiment and the warm glance Sarah offered as she sat back at the dining room table with the rest of the group. All these years of not really having a home to go back to for the holidays, and she suddenly realized it might have been next door the whole time.
Sam’s voice sliced into her moment, “Hey Steve? Darcy? You might wanna look up.”
The pair both craned her head towards where Sam was pointing, eyes landing on a little ball of green foliage with tiny white berries. Darcy’s face flamed, glancing nervously at Steve, who also looked hesitant. Maybe he was looking for something closer to consent, but Darcy only huffed a laugh, unsurprised that somehow they’d both managed to get into a little holiday trouble.
“If my eyes aren’t lying, that looks like mistletoe, Mr. Rogers,” Darcy whispered. “And I didn’t take you for a rulebreaker, but I get it if you’re—”
With a shake of his head and a small smile, Steve quickly dipped down to kiss her sweetly on the cheek, cutting her off with a barely audible, “Merry Christmas, Darcy Lewis.”
The flush spread across her cheeks and into her hair as Steve reached up to pry the plant from the ceiling, shooting his mother a choice look over Darcy’s shoulder.
“Wonder how this could have gotten up there?” Steve murmured, rolling it over in his palm.
Sarah Rogers hid a laugh behind her hand and shrugged as she looked over to Natasha.
“No idea, honey.”