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Agent "Secret Agent Man" Coulson has never spoken to her. He has spoken around her and above her. He's ordered her about via e-mail, text and intermediary. But he has never opened his mouth and said words to her. Darcy thinks it's unbearably rude of him.
That's why, when she sees him at the exhibition opening, she's determined to poke at him. Just a little.
She hands her glass to her date and excuses herself, moving towards the Agent with a "SON OF COUL" ready on her lips. But before she can say anything he grabs her hand and drags her onto the dance floor.
He pulls her close and places his lips close to her ear. "Miss Lewis, I am here undercover. Do not say my name, do not mention my profession. Now that you are here, we are both in danger," he whispers as he begins to lead her across the dance floor.
Darcy's brain freezes, because those words? They are the words printed like a really weird tramp stamp just above the curve of her butt. She's had to hide them since she was fourteen, not wanting to give anyone a hint that one day she'd be involved in undercover operations. Who knew what could harm her future soul mate? Now here he is, her soul mate, holding her in his arms.
Her feet move automatically, his arms strong and sure as they turn her in response to the music.
She has to say something, she knows she does, because that's how this works. Person A says something that person B recognizes, then person B says something and person A also knows that the two of them are soul mates. So she says the first thing that comes to her mind.
"You know how to tango?"
She has to give Agent Coulson credit; his pause is so imperceptible that if she wasn't in his arms she wouldn't have noticed.
"This is a complication," he murmurs, though she's pretty sure that this time he's talking to himself.
"Maybe I can help."
She didn't think Agent Blankface could do expressions, but there it is: a look so disbelieving it's like she'd just told him the Earth was flat.
"Look, Agent Coulson-"
"It's Phil."
"Phil - "
"But not tonight. Tonight it's Clark."
"As in Kent?"
This time the blank expression is broken by a twitch at the left corner of his lips, just the hint of a smile until it is hidden away again.
"No, Miss Lane, not as in Kent. It's Clark James."
"Miss Lane? I thought it was Lewis."
They both turn at the voice. A man stands behind her, solidly built with dark hair. She'd been introduced earlier in the night. Shane? Shorn? Ah!
"Mr Shaw," she says with a smile, stepping away from Phil. "It is Lewis. Mr James is not as good with names as I am."
"That's good; I thought you'd lied to me earlier." She shakes her head with a demure smile because she can tell that this is not a man who will appreciate her normal fare of smart-ass comment. "Miss Lewis, I was wondering if you would join me for the next dance."
She feels Phil's hand tense before he steps back, the fingers at her spine finally slipping away.
"I'd be delighted." She turns to Phil with a small smile. "Thank you for the dance, Mr James."
"My pleasure, Miss Lewis," he says before he walks off the dance floor.
She turns to Sebastian Shaw with a smile as he takes her in his arms.
Sebastian Shaw stays close to her side for the rest of the night and she can't tell why. Is it because he suspects she is the undercover agent, or is it just because she'd chosen a particularly low-cut dress for the event? And why is she so sure that Shaw's the bad guy Phil is investigating? Something about the way Phil's hand had lingered and the look in his eyes as if he was hoping she knew how to read his mind.
"Miss Lewis." Darcy jumped at the voice by her ear. "I'm sorry for startling you. I was wondering if you'd care to dance again?"
"I'd be delighted."
She disentangles herself from Shaw and follows Phil to the dance floor just as a sixty's ballad begins.
"We're going to dance towards the doors, then slip out. Is there anything of yours left in the room?"
"No. All in my bag." It's clutched in her left hand resting on his shoulder.
"Good. Then it's time for us to extract ourselves."
"Can we wait to the end of this song?"
"No."
She frowns, but follows as the crowd hides them from Shaw's sight. All in all, she wasn't much liking having Secret Agent Man Coulson as her soul mate. He was blank-faced, unemotional, grumpy... and the apparent owner of the most gorgeous little red '62 Corvette.
She slides into the car, running her fingers over the soft leather and feeling like Elizabeth Bennett, who only accepted Darcy was her soul mate after she saw his house. She was going to accept Coulson as her soul mate all for this car. It purrs under her and they speed out of the parking lot and towards Virginia. Five minutes down the road he pulls into a parking lot and turns to face her.
"Did you catch the bad guy, Secret Agent Man?"
He doesn't answer. Instead he reaches out and cups her jaw. He leans towards her and she tilts her head, her heart thumping as she waits for his lips to touch hers. It is like coming home. And like jumping off a cliff. It is everything she'd been told a soul mate kiss was supposed to be. His lips are gentle against hers, but it is still enough to send shivers over her body and her arm rises of its own accord, fingers threading through his hair.
He draws away and presses his forehead to hers. "When I saw you in his arms..."
"I'm okay. He didn't even cop a feel."
"Doesn't mean I had to like it." His mouth is turned down in what is almost a pout. Turns out when he isn’t on duty, Secret Agent Man has a rather expressive mouth.
“Of course not.” She draws her thumb across his lips. She was starting to think she might like her Son of Coul. “You know, our tango got interrupted by Shaw, and you didn’t let us finish our slow dance.”
“Are you saying I owe you a dance?”
“I’m saying I’ve got the iPod if you’ve got the stereo.”
"By the way," he says as he turns the ignition and roars off into the night, "you start SHIELD training on Monday.”