dedication: to McCall. happy Christmas, gorgeous!
notes: this was supposed to be serious but then just ended up being ridiculous. what is wrong with me?
title: dig, dig, grave digger
summary: Post zombie-apocalypse Christmas shenanigans with the most dysfunctional SHIELD family there is. — Darcy, genderswap!Clint/Natasha.
Darcy snapped her gum for the fifth time in the space of ten minutes, tapping chippy blue-painted nails against the cigarette-burn table-top. She crossed her legs, held her cell phone high above her head, and squinted up at it for way longer than necessary.
"We don't even have service," she grumbled. "Ugh. I want a burger."
"Hey, kid, complaining ain't doing anyone any good, so you might as well quit it," Chloe Barton leaned against the door-frame, arms crossed beneath her chest. She wore black leather with purple zippers, her arms free. "I'd kill for a burger, too, just saying. S'been a while."
And given that this was Chloe Barton, actual killing might be a thing. Zombies were decent target practice, and that was sort of like killing, right?
Darcy snapped her gum again, and dropped her head to the table. "I hate everything."
"Could be worse. You could be outside."
"Yeah, but at least I'd have food," Darcy sighed, cheek against the table, and stared up pleadingly at Chloe with her very best puppy-dog eyes. Her lipstick smeared across the table.
"Nick'll be back soon, kiddie," Chloe consoled, but not really. She patted the girl oh-so-sympathetically on the arm, fingers light and point-zero precision. "He'll bring you food."
"It's never anything good. It's always health food, and like, what even is that, it doesn't even taste good," Darcy grumbled again. "I want a burger!"
"Complaining ain't gonna get you anywhere just like I said. Well, 'cept in my bad books. And honey, you really don't want that," Chloe replied easily. She sat back in her chair, tilted back on two legs with her feet on the table.
Darcy snapped her gum.
Outside, the sun was setting. The streets were deserted, already—then again, the streets were usually deserted, anyway. Ever since the virus hit, there wasn't much reason to go outside except food and… yeah, food. And food. That was basically it, as far as Darcy was concerned. That had sorta been the only reason to go out even before the virus, but whatever, what was done was done.
Darcy still had no idea why SHIELD had decided she was important.
(Probably had to do with Jane. Association with Jane Foster had gotten Darcy into some pretty weird shit, and not the good sex-drugs-rock-n-roll kind.)
But they had, and that was why she was stuck here with Chloe on good days and Nicolai on bad days and the both of them on the really bad days—uh, not that they were terrible people or anything (because Darcy had a terrible sneaking suspicion that Nicolai could read minds), but they had really loud sex and it was just a pain.
Or at least, Darcy was pretty sure that they were having really loud sex.
There was actually honestly no telling—they never actually touched each other when they weren't somewhere Darcy couldn't see them, but they were both always bruised and wincing and Darcy knew hate sex when she saw it.
Zombie apocalypse or not, there would be nothing in the world that would stop really hot people from fucking each other. That was kind of the most basic part of life; sex, always sex. Creepy or not, Nicolai was super-hot…
Damn, she definitely needed to get laid. Strong and silent and ginger was so not her type.
The door slammed. Both Darcy and Chloe perked up; Darcy at the possible scent of food, and Chloe for her bow to stretch the string and aim it at the door, just in case. The bow went taut then loose, but all Darcy could see was the dripping bag of grease that Nicolai extended towards her, looking utterly ill at ease.
"Oh my god," she moaned as she stuck her nose into the bag and took a deep, appreciative breath, "You brought me a burger. Is it Christmas? Is this actually happening?"
"Yes," Nicolai said. His eyebrow rose slightly, and Darcy thought she might cry, though from sheer love or sheer terror was thoroughly debatable. She stuffed her face into the bag with the intention of staying there for the rest of eternity.
"You are God," Darcy nearly sobbed. "God, Romanoff, God!"
"Do you have any idea how hard finding uninfected meat is?"
Darcy waved a hand. "Yeah, yeah, whatever, you're God, I already said that. Can I eat now, or do I have to wait until you two finish eye-fucking each other into next week?"
"No one's stopping you," Nicolai deadpanned.
Darcy let out an ugly pterodactyl screech, and dove in.
"What a kid," Chloe muttered. She eyed Nicolai up and down. "Where's mine?"
"Where do you think?" he asked blandly, hands linked in front of him. His bright-sunset hair curled over his eyes, and he was utterly unamused.
Chloe grinned widely. "You wanna fight for it?"
The burger was grease and fat and smelled like God had vomited rainbow unicorn sparkles everywhere. Darcy stuffed her face with fries, moaned something about sin and hell, and could only sit there in complete, utter, perfect satisfaction.
"I don't want to fight you again, Barton," Nicolai said delicately. "We both know where that will end."
"Awww," Chloe cooed at him. She batted her eye-lashes, and went "What, you don't like where things end up with me? Don't you love me?"
"Barton," Nicolai said, and Darcy distantly thought that they should really get a room. They were ruining the perfection of this moment.
"Didja hear that, kid? He doesn't love me!"
"Mmmphm," Darcy replied, mouth still full of fries. "Ish dere beer?"
"What a je–rk," Chloe sang.
"Fine. We'll fight for it."
"Can we bury someone?"
"Only if you dig the hole for the body, Barton."
"Awww, but Nick, it'll ruin my nails!"
"There are other ways to ruin your nails, Chloe," Nicolai said.
Darcy pulled her head out of heaven long enough to watch Chloe's eyes go black with lust or something along those lines. She didn't think she'd ever heard Nicolai say Chloe's first name, like, ever. The pair of them dashed out of the communal living room; she'd totally just seen them touch each other.
It was the first time in probably forever. Two firsts, for that matter.
This was great.
"Don't forget a condom!" Darcy called after them, cheerful. "I'm not ready to be an aunt!"
Neither acknowledged her, and all she got in reply was the slamming of the door again.
Yeah, they were so fucking.