Chapter Text
I'm not a native English speaker but luckily I have couple of amazing peeps that volunteered to edit my work so it will improve, I promise =)
Hope you'll all enjoy the roller-coaster ahead and don't forget to tell me what you think, peeps =)
Late Call for Bad Judgement
Chapter 1
It wasn't intentional. Honestly. Who would be crazy enough to come up with shit like that anyway? It was poor judgment, a wrong decision. Sleep deprivation was a terrible thing!
Darcy Lewis enjoyed her sleep. It was important. She also hadn't been getting much of it since she started working for a certain astrophysicist.
"No, Jane, you can't have your phone back." Not letting the annoyance creep into her voice was vital.
Jane Foster was many things, and most of them started with the word stubborn. "It's my phone!"
"I just said that." Darcy had indeed said that; she’d said it many times throughout this argument that her stubborn ass Boss-Lady had no chance of winning. " You still aren't getting it back. SI will be calling this phone in an attempt to bypass me to discuss with you the terms of the contract and the adjustments that we want, and so help me, Thor, you're not losing this phone under the mountain of papers after putting it on silent!" That hadn't been a fun search, and Darcy wasn't looking for a repeat.
"It happened once." There was a tiny bit of remorse in the astrophysicist's voice. Darcy had seen it all before and wasn't having any of that bullshit.
"I nearly had a stroke. Is that what you want? For your smart, beautiful, funny P.A to just drop dead from stress?" Sorting out this contract was important.
"Can I hire somebody else? The P.A in question thinks she’s funny-"
Darcy tossed a pencil at her boss lady and, of course, missed by a mile.
"Lame, Darcy - Ouch!" The second one bounced off of Jane's head, and Darcy stuck her tongue out at her friend.
"Keep talking, and I will let them have you."
" Oh no! The big bad wolves from SI Legal Department… so scared. Please make sure the clause for non-distribution without permission being at their discretion is gone." The negotiation between themselves and SI was at a stalemate at the moment. The international corporation known for investing massively into innovation was attempting to save some money at Jane's expense.
'Yeah, not on my watch they fucking won't.' Aside from the obvious money issue, Doctor Jane Foster deserved to be respected, and Darcy Lewis was going to see to it. "Yeah, yeah. It's funny; how I'm the one busting my ass for it."
"You were the one that brought it up." Jane gave her P.A a sidelong glance from the suitcase that she just closed. "I don't even have to sign it."
"Ha ha, no. Thor-bro is there. The-" ‘And here we go again.’ This time Darcy rolled her eyes to the annoyance of her friend.
"He can just as well be here, Darcy. He can travel."
"I am good with going. OK?"
"But if we hold out-"
"No, Jane, it's not like the first date with Thor where you hold out, before you put out, because you don't want to look easy. Stark Industries is the land of generous funding. Real funds can buy real equipment that you don't have to build yourself or get me to build it. I know we pretend that most of our stuff is held together by duct tape because it's unique, but we both know the answer is- we are broke." Darcy finally pocketed her boss's phone and put on a kettle. "And we will get paid." They were running low on tea again, and sugar… and dignity.
"We have the grant money." Uhuh, that money should have been handed out with a little book titled ' Surviving on a Pittance, The Advanced Level.
"That wouldn't keep two hamsters alive if we didn't build a majority of the equipment our self. We live in your mum's flat, and she pays the bills. We are that broke. I know we play it cool when Thor-bro swings by between saving the world and sorting issues on other worlds. It's time to move on."
"Stark can afford-"
"Stark got nothing to do with this. Until S.H.I.E.L.D loosens up the vise on the rights to publish your work, no one can touch it. Stark wants you there because he knows you are brilliant and that you are on the path to breaking physics. You got nominated for Nobel! I'm not saying we shouldn't get the most out of it. I'm just saying we shouldn't take the piss." Even with the excellent press, negotiating was tough.
This argument has been ongoing since the SI NYC offer came through two months ago. They wanted Jane there, but they also wanted her on a leash, to parade her like a prized poodle. There was always a way to compromise, but the legal department's inflexibility was wearing them down.
All the while, Thor lived in New York because the Avengers resided there, and not being able to travel the vast distance fast enough if there was an emergency, even with the help of Mjolnir, was taking a toll on his relationship with Jane. He was still gone off-world most of the time, so he was eager to have Jane move. If only to have peace of mind that she was safe and sound in the company of his new friends.
"I still think we should hold out." Stubborn really should have been Jane's middle name.
"I think you need to finally get a move on if you don't want to miss your train." Darcy was already rocking her bright green Hulk PJs while Jane was ready to catch the night train to Glasgow for the family reunion. "I need my phone."
"No, you have my spare phone and a prepaid sim with all the numbers. Honestly, I’ve got this under control. If the SI wants us, they will have to crack and finally give us something." Darcy and Jane had survived on their own before SI rocked up with their promises of generous funding; they could wait a little longer.
"Yes, just how much-"
Darcy looked meaningfully at the clock and rose sharply. "Foster, if you think that I will not toss you out head first through that door, you are in for a surprise. "
She was content, knowing that Jane trusted her to do best by both of them. With S.H.I.E.L.D breathing down their necks and tempting with their standing offer to join up and sign their lives away, and SI being jerks, life for a Poli Sci major with a mountain of debt wasn't easy.
The two of them mainly lived on grant money and did their best to do actual scientific research with any remaining funds.
Mrs. Foster's old two-bed semidetached rental property, which she let her daughter occupy, for the time being, was draughty and damp. Darcy was convinced that even the roaches moved out due to the conditions, but it was rent-free, so they made do.
She was a glorified intern now, also known as a P.A. No paycheck still, though. If S.H.I.E.L.D hadn't Fucked Up, Darcy probably would have convinced Jane to sign up by now, but as it stood, the two women lived under the crippling weight of an NDA that didn't allow Jane to advance her career in the way she deserved it and be able to pay said P.A finally.
But Stark Industries was a completely different ball game; they could do stuff there because of funding. Glorious, unlimited funding that might finally enable Jane to replicate the New Mexico data that they couldn't recover after the Jack Booted Thug Brigade returned the machines.
While Darcy knew that London and NYC's time difference was 5 hours, she wasn't even mildly surprised when the phone rang at 3 AM London time because SI Legal was a bag of dicks. The sharply flashing caller ID wasn't promising anything good at this hour.
"Dr. Foster's phone." She yawned, and she rolled onto her back, stretching sleepily in the single creaking bed in the spare room. "Her P.A, Darcy Lewis speaking."
"Foster."
Not even a Hello. Who didn't just love this kind of conversation? "No, it's Lewis, Darcy. The P.A."
"Put Foster on, Darlene."
Darcy glared at the ceiling. 'Fat chance, asshole.'
"Sure. Paragraph 17 clause 3. The matter of Dr. Foster's accommodation at the Stark Tower. Has it been updated?"
"What?" The person on the other end sounded taken aback. ‘What? Didn't expect me to be on the ball?’ She’d been in this game long enough to be ready at any time.
"I'm asking you, Anonymous caller from Stark Industries, New York, Legal Department, have the amendments kindly requested by me on behalf of Dr. Foster been updated? "
"What? No? Yes? I don't know? Put Foster on, Dahlia." ‘Yeah, I'll get right on it since you asked so nicely. Twat.’
"Moving on! Paragraph 19 clause 7. Equal pay and compensation events. Has that been expanded?"
"If you’re finished being cute, Put. Foster. On." There was an actual growl on the other side of the line, and Darcy's eyebrows shot up, but she steamrolled ahead. Whoever was on the other end could take their temper and stick it where the sun obviously wasn't shining for all she cared.
"I take that as a no. As none of our requests have been taken into account, I suggest you email Dr. Foster with your counter-proposal since we haven't seen that either. Till then, I bid you goodnight, sir."
"You're not going to hang up on-"
'Asshole.' Darcy seethed when she indeed hung up with no small amount of satisfaction.
Unfortunately, the screen didn't even go dark before the person was calling back. 'Oh, come on, dude! It's late, you got nothing, and I'm tired!'
"You hung up on me!"
Darcy let few moments pass before replying to see if he would say something useful and then said, packed with all the indifference that the short word could fit in. "Yes."
"Do you know who I am?"
She wasn't in the mood to play a game of who the fuck are you with an asshole who called people at bumfuck o'clock with nothing to show for it.
"Yes. You're the dick who thinks that a well-respected scientist should take a 15% pay cut because she's moving in with her boyfriend who already lives in Stark Tower; rent-free, I might add. Not to mention that you consider that Dr. Foster has to sit down when she takes a piss, a significant enough reason to dock her pay a further 10%. Last but not least, it's 3 AM! You don't call people at this hour, act like a chauvinistic cunt, and then expect them to fall all over themselves doing your bidding. Dr. Foster is not a dog at your beck and call. Goodnight!"
There wasn't a callback, and she briefly wondered if their contract got pulled before going back to sleep.
The next call came the following night at 3 AM. Again. Darcy groaned in frustration. ‘This is just dirty pool...’
"Dr. Foster's phone. Her P.A is speaking." The voice sounded familiar and was unnaturally chipper, and her irritation went up a notch.
"It's done."
"Congratulations. Did it hurt?"
"Hurt what?" Definitely the same guy. Wasn't Darcy a lucky girl? What happened to the old Mr. Spools dude whose idea was to pay Jane peanuts in exchange for the privilege of living in the Tower? At least, he always sounded like a crusty old man.
"When you got neutered."
"I got… are you drunk?" She wished. Darcy didn't have the time or money for that kind of stuff. Not since Science! and Jane rocked into her life. That shit was an expensive vocation with very little pay.
“Sleep-deprived. Some dick's been calling at 3 AM." A heavy emphasis on the time, which he ignored.
"I got your contract sorted." There was a pause like he was waiting for something, and it took Darcy another moment to understand that he expected her to reply.
"My contract's direct with Dr. Foster. Thank you very much, but no."
"Well, Dr. Foster's contract has been finalized. Start packing." The man sounded slightly manic, like one gets after too many hours staying awake. Darcy nodded to herself. Better watch it, this conversation was giving off odd vibes, yet at the same time, she wanted to harp at him.
"Sure. I haven't seen it in the inbox yet, funny enough."
"Sent it to you, seeing as you are her mouthpiece. Darcy Lou. Very cute. Very southern. Texas, maybe? Louisiana? I would say-"
"I’m sure you would. That's my private email, and please do not use it.” Darcy tried not to grind her teeth. She hadn't used that since the Ian Incident. It was her embarrassing first email address, you know, the one that everyone got when they were young, thinking they were the bee's knees. She’d had it for ages and barely ever used it. Where did he even get it? “Give me a second. I need to log in.”
“I said, I sent it.”
“Yeah, I heard you… just a sec…logging in…looking… bloody spam… ” Darcy put the phone on the loudspeaker as she attempted to comb through pages of random shit. That took few long minutes.
“Your filters aren’t set correctly. Are they even set? When was the last time you adjusted them? ”
It took a minute for the situation to dawn on Darcy, and she watched in growing horror as a stranger sorted her private emails.
“Are- are you in my emails? You’re in my emails.”
“And done. Yes. Sorted. No need to thank -”
“I will fucking do you in for privacy breach.” ‘The audacity of this asshole!’
“You're welcome, Darcy Lou. Why so defensive? Got anything interesting in them? Is that it? Are there photos? I bet there are photos.”
Darcy desperately tried finding the correct emails before being forcibly kicked out. The screen went back to log in. “Listen, dude, just log out…” What could she do? At this hour? Who in SI could she call? Would she be able to prove it after he finished?
“Oh, Wow. Are those real? They look real. ”
Darcy wanted to scream, but a lump in her throat was choking her. How dare he steal from her and compliment her at the same time? What the fuck was wrong with him?
“You … fucking thief.”
“I'm offended. Just a second… done. Much better. I think a canvas one on 2 to bring out the proportions? First, you're implying that I intend to keep these works of art without adequately compensating you. And second - a P.A for Foster? I think you should reconsider because it's a criminal offence not to let these see the light of day. ”
“And this is why I am a P.A for Dr. Foster.” Now it was Darcy’s turn to growl while she repeatedly tried to get back into the emails. “Those are personal photos, you pig…”
“My compliments to the artist. The shading is just right, and the angle gives this impression of suppressed movement. They are real, though, right?”
“No…” The conversation kept getting weirder.
“You can’t lie worth shit, short stack. So how much?”
“They are not for sale; you douche canoe. ”
“These are works of art— good ones at that. I would know. Besides, it doesn't look like you're doing anything with them. How much is Foster paying you anyway? It is an easy buck. No foul, no harm. Need to put these someplace with good light…”
“NO! You… listen… I don’t care if you keep them in your spank bank, but I will murder you in your sleep if you show these to anyone!” What was she even saying? She wasn't naked in any of those.
“Does that mean that I get a chance to get you in bed? Because I am game.” She could hear the smug bastard grin. She heard it in his voice. She was so so mad. “Shortstack? Lewis? I can hear you breathing, babe. It's rather laboured; should I assume you can imagine it now? Because I would rather you voiced it…”
“You will regret this. Mark my word.”
“I would rather mark you.”
“How can the legal department of a reputable company be a basket full of pigs?”
“Oh, I’m not from Legal, Shortstack…” Suddenly, some alarms blaring from his side made Darcy wince from the volume. “ Damn it. Got to go, I’ll call you.”
“Screw you.”
“Deal.”
He hung up, and Darcy continued staring blankly at the phone, praying that he was joking.
It took another five minutes for her to log back into the email.
The Photos were Gone. Gone. He didn’t copy them. He took them completely. It took Darcy three shots and a shower to de-stress sufficiently enough to look for the contract because if that wasn’t there, this nightmare didn’t have a silver lining.
The contract was there. The updates were there—all of them. Darcy could feel all the stress from the last month slowly ebb away, replaced with relief. She’s got a place in the Tower. A real apartment in the actual Stark Tower rent-free. That was going to save her a ton of money and commute, the closest place she would have been able to afford was in Brooklyn, and she would be able to keep an eye on Jane when Thor couldn't be around. It was like the perfect outcome.
‘He can fucking keep the pictures’, Darcy thought. It was time to let go; they were her safety blanket for way too long anyway. She could live without them. They were great pictures, though. He did say it was art, and fuck it; he can have them. She looked absolutely fabulous in them. It was time to move on.
There was a giddiness that Darcy tried her best to control and skimmed through the contact.
It was all in there— ready to go. Jane would just need to sign. Just right there, under the signature of … Anthony E. Stark.
Anthony E. Stark...
She went back and forth a page.
Mr. Spools' printed name was crossed out and replaced by Anthony E. Stark in spidery handwriting.
Anthony Edward Stark.
Tony fucking Stark had her photos.