Chapter Text
This is bad. This is definitely bad. There is no way this is anything other than the absolute worst. Darcy’s never been inside Director Fury’s office before, but she’s heard myths and horror stories. Unless you’re one of his golden children, like Steve Rogers or Natasha Romanoff, you don’t just get invited into Fury’s office for a pleasant little chat. Oh no. She’s definitely getting fired.
She taps the ball of her foot nervously as she waits for him to arrive. She hasn’t been given the title of ‘agent’ yet, as she’s never gone out on a mission. Her two year anniversary as a trainee was just around the corner. Most of her days are spent in the Avengers training facility in upstate New York, tirelessly spent running drills and memorizing protocols and procedures. Attempting to memorize would be a more accurate way of putting it.
So she can’t help but wrack her brain and wonder just what the hell she’s done to warrant her termination. Steve Rogers probably doesn’t even have all those rules and regulations memorized, she finds herself thinking instead, there’s no way…
She jolts upright at the sudden entrance of Director Fury, unable to help her blathering as he marches towards his desk, “Hey, uh, listen - I’m sorry for whatever I did. Please don’t fire me. If this is about the time I took two helpings of waffles that morning in the mess hall I swear Agent Barton told me he does it all the time and - ”
“Miss Lewis.” Fury cuts her off with the coldest, steeliest gaze he can manage (which, for a one-eyed dude, is majorly impressive). “You’re going on assignment.”
Darcy’s jaw practically hits the floor. Well, that is definitely the last thing she expected to hear.
“I’m sorry, I’m - what?”
“I didn’t stutter,” Fury says, sliding a file across his desk towards her. “We need you to do undercover reconnaissance at the Casino Royale in Montenegro on an extremely classified mission. We have another member of the team working on this particular assignment already, but we’re calling you in for backup.”
Darcy’s head starts spinning. Holy shit, this is all happening so much faster than she’d ever imagined. Three seconds ago she was sure her ass was canned, and now she’s being flown out on a top secret undercover mission? Her heart skips a beat. She reaches for the file and looks up at Fury, “Is this for real?”
Fury nods his head, “SHIELD’s been chasing dead ends on this case for a while. I’m sure you’ve seen the news - the anonymous terrorist who has been threatening to bomb the Gathering of Nations Summit in Montenegro. It’s an excuse for all the big-whigs around the world to get together and party. That event is this weekend, and against all of our urges to cancel it, the bastards are still lining up to clink their champagne flutes and smoke their cigars.”
Darcy opens her case file and flips through the handful of documents as Fury continues, “We don’t know who the terrorist is, but through the intel we’ve received so far, we know they’ll be in attendance this weekend. It’s your job to infiltrate the crowd and figure out his or her identity.”
“You know I’m not…I’m not an agent yet, right?” Darcy can’t help but ask, feeling the weight of the mission on her shoulders already, “This will be my first mission. Do I get a gun, or some kind of - ”
Director Fury holds up his hands, “Slow your roll a little, Lewis. We know you’re not an agent. That’s why you’re doing undercover reconnaissance only. Once you’ve successfully identified the terrorist, we’ll send in a team of agents to handle the situation. We’ll equip you with a taser and other light weaponry, but you won’t need a gun.” He pauses a little to make a sound of consideration, “You do your job right on this, and you might just become an agent after all.”
Darcy nods her head in understanding, feeling like a ball of giddy nerves and excitement as she looks back down at her file. This was miles better than spending the weekend at the training facility. She was ready to get out in the field. Show them she had the stuff agents were made of. She could do this.
She studies one of the sheets in her file a little more closely. Even though her last name would be changed, her alias name would still be Darcy, much to her displeasure. She was hoping for a more exotic cover, but she was’t one to fight Fury on it. One thing stuck out above all else, though. Next to her status, it read clear as day: married.
“Whoa, I’ve got a husband?” Darcy asks, scrunching up her face and holding up the sheet. “What gives, boss?”
“As I previously mentioned, one of our team has already been working on the case,” Fury states, “He’s also not an agent, but that’s simply due to the fact that we don’t fully trust him yet. You both have something to prove on this mission, should you successfully complete it.”
“The two of you will need to play the part of husband and wife,” Fury continues at Darcy’s confused look, “Millionaires who reside in Paris, France. All the details concerning your backstory can be found in your case file. Your partner is already at the location.”
The fact that Fury’s purposefully skirting the subject of naming her partner doesn’t go unnoticed. Darcy closes her folder and looks him straight in the eye, “So…who am I working with?”
Fury huffs a little, taking on his duty of being the bearer of bad news, “Loki Odinson.”
Darcy feels her stomach drop to the soles of her feet. Did she hear him right? He can’t possibly mean Loki, brother of Thor, destroyer of New York not more than five years ago? Right? She opens her mouth to protest, but Fury beats her to it.
“I’d go pack your bags now if I were you, Miss Lewis. Your plane leaves in an hour.”
_______________________________________________
Montenegro is a beautiful country. Full of sparkling blue water and a sky filled with the puffiest white clouds. The ocean water lightly sprays her as her speedboat carries her from the small airport to the mainland, where luscious green hills dot the country-side, filled with mansions and sprawling homes worth more than her whole life, probably. She really should be appreciating the beauty of it all more, it’s just…
She adjusts her sunglasses with a scowl. The thought of working with Loki Odinson is just ruining everything for her, it seems.
He’d joined SHIELD and the Avengers a few months after she had, and it had really been a shock for everybody. Even more so was the fact that Fury had been willing to trust him. Of course he had the right skill set to be an agent, the physicality, the intelligence. It was just the whole, ‘I tried to take over the world’ thing that really made people scratch their heads when he signed up for work.
Thor vouched for him, of course. And oddly enough, Loki actually seemed begrudgingly sincere, but Darcy immediately distrusted him on principle. How could she not? The bastard leveled half of the city like it was a lazy Sunday afternoon for him. “People can change,” promised Thor. “My brother has good in his heart,” he assured them. That was two years ago. And since then, against all odds, Loki actually had become a devoted trainee.
Whatever had possessed Fury to okay the ex-villain, and despite all his changes, Darcy still was wary. It didn’t help that Loki was a massive dick like, all the time, either.
Most of the time he kept to himself, which was fine by her. But he had a nasty habit of using dirty tricks on the sparring mat back at the training facility, and Darcy herself had fallen victim to his moves on more than a few occasions. The whole ‘holier-than-thou’ attitude he gave off wasn’t a fan-favorite, either.
She might love Thor, and Thor might love his brother, but that doesn’t mean she has to.
Her speedboat docks at a port near one of the most beautiful, sparkling, white-sand beaches she’s ever seen. There’s a fancy car with a driver waiting for her, who takes all of her luggage and chauffeurs her up the coastal road towards the hotel and casino the convention is being held at.
If the heads of state and world leaders are nervous about the terrorist threats, they sure don’t look it. Darcy’s car pulls up in a long queue line of vehicles, all dropping off the wealthiest and elitist and most powerful figureheads and billionaires from around the world. Darcy gets the feeling this is just one big party for most of them, judging by the way the guests all greet each other with smiles and laughter. The convention doesn’t officially start until tomorrow, but already the crowd gathering around the front of the hotel is pretty sizable.
Darcy removes her sunglasses and pushes her hair out of her face as she steps out of the car. She’d opted for wearing a white sundress and strappy sandals, bordering just on the right side of expensive taste. Thankfully, SHIELD had provided her entire wardrobe, allowing her to play up her cover.
“Darling,” A voice smoother than silk and richer than honey calls out to her, and she’s alarmed to see none other than Loki himself approaching her from the front steps of the hotel. He’s dressed casually: a tight, white button-down shirt tucked into black dress pants, his normally wild black hair slicked back into a bun. He grins a charmingly bright smile full of teeth, such a stark contrast to the scowl she’s used to seeing on him.
Her eyes widen a little as he comes up and wraps his arms around her, surrounded by all the other guests milling about near the outside of the hotel. His fingers slip around her waist, sliding to the small of her back as he pulls her close, and she lets out a small squeak of discomfort.
“Kiss me.” He commands tightly under his breath, his mouth straining under his fake smile.
“No!” Darcy whispers back with alarm. Shit. They’re supposed to be husband and wife. Did she really assume she could survive the whole four days without kissing him? Stupid, stupid, stupid…
Loki lowers his forehead so that it’s touching hers, and his hand comes up to cup her cheek, partially just to block his own words from being heard as he whispers darkly, “Kiss me now, people are watching.”
“I - mmph,” Darcy starts to protest, but not before he slots his mouth against hers.
It takes her by surprise somehow. Not just the fact that she’s kissing Loki Odinson, but the fact that his lips are actually…soft. Softer than they look. Not that she’s ever looked at them before. But they are. And he’s surprisingly pretty good at this whole kissing thing, and, oh - he’s tugging on her lower lip. He wants you to kiss him back, you idiot, stop standing there like a vegetable.
She moves her mouth against his, lips smacking together a little awkwardly before Loki finally pulls back. The look in his eye seems to say “that will have to do,” and Darcy fights the urge to roll her eyes. Yep, still a massive dick.
He loops his arm around her waist, a gesture that causes her to shiver involuntarily, and guides her up the front steps of the hotel as he proclaims too loudly, “I’m so glad you’re here, I’ve missed you terribly.”
“I’ve missed you too, dear,” She replies sweetly, just a little bit of sarcasm dripping on her last word. “Paris is so lonely without you.” They both smile brightly at each other like idiots as they walk inside and Loki jabs the button for the elevator.
Loki guides her inside, one hand still on her waist, as he pushes the button for the 9th floor. As soon as the doors ping shut, his hand retracts immediately, as though he’s just made contact with some sort of infectious disease.
“Darcy.”
“Loki.”
The both glare at each other from opposite ends of the elevator. For a minute, the fact that the entire hotel and casino is under the threat of going up in smoke isn’t even the worst thing on Darcy’s mind. The fact that she’ll somehow have to survive that and being fake married to Loki Odinson is a mission in and of itself. A cheerful little tune wafts through the speakers in the elevator, offsetting the sour looks they’re currently giving each other.
Oh, this is definitely going to be a fun weekend.
_______________________________________________
Loki rubs his temples with his index fingers, shutting his eyes and taking a deep breath. When he opens them again - and sees that she is still in his hotel room suite, napping on his bed - he groans to himself.
He could have done this mission alone. Easily. All he needed was a little more time. He’d been working on it for a month, trying to identify the terrorist, but Fury had jumped the gun and called in backup for this weekend. Backup in the name of Darcy Lewis.
Why in the world she’d been chosen is beyond him. He’d never particularly gotten along with her - but then, he’d never particularly gotten along with most people at SHIELD. He was trying to do good, trying to be more than the person he was - but it was people with the bright and shiny optimism like Darcy Lewis that made it so damn difficult.
This was supposed to be his moment - his moment to prove to SHIELD, to his brother, to the world, that he was worth something after all. How was he supposed to do that now with the five feet of sunshine and sass sprawled out underneath his sheets?
They may be forced to work together, but he couldn’t be forced to enjoy it. Even though, technically, that was exactly what his new cover entailed.
He sighs, looking at the Rolex on his wrist. He’d let her sleep her jet-lag off long enough.
“Five more minutes, ma,” Darcy babbles, pulling the covers up over her head after he shakes her shoulder.
Loki clenches his jaw tightly in annoyance, “We’re on assignment, Darcy. Every minute we squander in here is another minute closer to a bomb going off under our very feet.”
That does the trick. Darcy pushes the covers of the bed off with an agitated huff, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. A fleeting thought crosses Loki’s mind, one that can’t help but notice just how young and vulnerable and soft she suddenly looks, curled up in a nest of blankets. It’s gone in an instant though, as more pressing matters flood his brain.
“We’ll need to rehearse our story tonight before we go out,” Loki explains, throwing the case file at Darcy from the nightstand. “There’s a welcome party for all the guests, and we’ll be in attendance.”
“I read this already,” Darcy declares, sitting up in bed as she tosses it onto the pillow next to her.
“Really…” Loki cocks an eyebrow, challenging her tone, “Aliases?”
“Darcy and Loki Laurent, from Paris, France,” Darcy rattles off.
“Net Worth?”
“Twenty point nine million.”
“How old were we when we married?”
“Um…twenty and…twenty-two…I think?”
“Where did you attend university?”
“Oh shit…um, wait, I know this…”
“My favorite wine?”
“Don’t be a dick, that wasn’t in the file - ”
“You’re not prepared in the slightest,” Loki scoffs, shaking his head. “If we’re going to convince people we’re married, you need to know these things.”
Darcy begrudgingly snatches back the case file and reopens it. Thankfully, he’d already prepared last night, pouring over every detail of their cover, so he says, “I’m going to take a shower and get dressed. I expect you to know that better than your own life story by the time I get out.”
Unsurprisingly, Darcy does not master the case file in the time it takes him to shower and get dressed. When he returns, he quizzes her relentlessly, drilling into her the most important facts, and decides that for now, it’s as good as it’s going to get. Eventually he lets her go shower and change, not realizing the amount of time they’d already taken up.
Just outside the bathroom door, Loki stands in front of the mirror, adjusting the buttons on his vest jacket before winding a tie around his neck. He can hear Darcy on the other side of the bathroom door, the hair dryer whirring.
“The first date we ever went on?” He yells over the noise.
“You took me to a wine valley in Florence,” She calls back, and then after a beat adds dryly, “And then you begged me to suck you off behind a wine barrel, but I adamantly refused.”
Loki rolls his eyes at her ridiculous addendum. Let her joke all she wants. Better to let her get it all out of her system now. “Do we have children?” He calls out.
“No,” Darcy replies, “And we don’t want them, either. Well, I do, maybe someday.”
Her last sentence causes his fingers to fault slightly in tying his tie. He can’t remember himself if that was a specific detail in the case file, but he lets it slide. She has the most important facts straight, and that’s all that matters.
The sound of the hair-dryer cuts, and Loki resumes to talking normally, “I’ve narrowed down my suspect list to three guests. I cross-referenced the guest list through SHEILD’s databases and couldn’t find evidence of their existence elsewhere. I’ll need you to be a distraction tonight so I can get a closer look at them. Do you think you can handle that?”
“What, being a distraction?” Darcy calls out, the sound of the door clicking as she turns the knob, “Not exactly what I trained for, but…”
She steps out in one of the most stunning gowns Loki’s ever seen. Ruby red, clinging to her every curve as it lands around her ankles. And oh, does she have curves.
His breath catches for a moment as he turns from the mirror to face her. The dress is cut low - low enough to serve the purpose of a big enough distraction in and of itself. Her milky white skin is offset by the tumbling waves of dark brown hair and her blood-red lips, the tiny smirk etched onto her face causing him to clear his throat. When he blinks again, he forces himself to focus solely on her eyes.
“Yeah…I can be a distraction.”