Hangover City (mild language warning)

August 30, 2014: Having been called the night before to help take care of a very drunk Darcy, Nancy gets to know the person she was caring for all night.

Darcy's Apartment

A one bedroom place on the East Side of midtown Manhattan.



  • None

Mood Music:

Nancy sits on the couch, her eyes closed but not asleep. Nope, way too much coffee for that. A call at 1am from her boyfriend said he needed help with some poor drunk girl. After teasing him to ask what sort of help he was needing, Nancy got up and dressed and headed into town, taking her black and absinthe green Charger.

It's been a rough night. Nancy doubts this woman is going to even remember that they met or that she's been holding her head while she gets rid of however many beers and tequilas she had the night before. Now, Darleen is sleeping in her room, a plastic bag lined garbage can held in her arms in case there is anything else left to void.


Waking up in her bed, cleaned and cuddling a trash can like it was a teddy bear, Darcy pushes herself up with a hangover grumble. And then she realizes HOW cleaned up she is. Wow! When did she get THESE pajamas? She doesn't remember buying them. Maybe they belonged to a former boy… girlfriend, based on the fact that the skulls on the leggings have pink hairbows. There might be some glittery thread involved.

There's also a glass of water on the bedside table. Did Darcy put that glass there? No. There was an angel in the room with her. An angel with black hair and eyes that called to mind the soft silver lining of puffy white clouds. Darcy might have tried to kiss the girl. Certainly, something that wouldn't have be fought too hard, but any rebukes by Nancy wouldn't have been taken badly. In fact, Darcy would have very drunkenly apologized each time before forgetting a few minutes later.

And somewhere in the tumble of what-the-hell-happened-last-night memories is… Skyping someone before the knock on her door. Stupid standing up again. Made all that alcohol rush back to her head, made her vomit. Darcy is totally blaming Loki for this one. This just sounds like something that should be done. Or maybe Darcy should blame SHIELD for not giving her the time to keep her tolerance up. Yes! That's the ticket! Blame May. It'll turn out so well.

Now, the next morning, Darcy gets to her feet after downing the glass of water, and stumbles her way toward her kitchen. No glasses, no makeup, hair completely headbed, bare feet shuffling. Zombie Darcy wants greasy breakfast. Zombie Darcy thinks she has frozen sausage patties in the freezer. Zombie Darcy doesn't notice anyone else in her apartment right now. Zombie Darcy, on a mission!


There, upon Zombie Darcy's computer, is an active Skype feed. Upon it is a tangled mess of sheets, with the leg, arm, and partially exposed backside of a sleeping black man. Based on what can be seen, he's definitely the type you'd call, 'in shape', and the arm that covers his face is partially covered in tattoos.

Yep. Looks like Darce and Shift passed out with their Skype feeds on.


Nancy had been considering turning the Skype feed off, but hell, she wasn't going to turn down a free show. Something had to make up for the clumsy attempts and pukey breathed kisses from Darleen. And yes, she's dating Bobby, but she's dating, not dead! Of course, when anonymous black guy puts the sheet on over himself, he becomes significantly less fun to watch.

Darleen moving in the bedroom causes her eyes to snap open. SHe listens for any sounds of choking. Yep, she's done this before. Years and years with her alcoholic mother have given her lots of practice on taking care of people in this state. She watches as Zombie Darleen walks right past her and into the kitchen. The coffee pot is full and smelling great and a small bag of groceries on the counter. Eggs. Bacon. A loaf of bread. Butter. Strawberry jam. Orange juice, the really good stuff not that cheap concentrate crud. Nancy watches Darleen, wondering how long it's going to take her to realize she's here.


For nearly a minute, Dacry stands in her kitchen looking at all the stuff. It's like the Hangover Fairy was here. Darcy heads back to the bed room for her laptop. She pokes the screen, like she's trying to poke Kwa through it. And then she frowns at the device… Kwa, before clicking the option on Skype that says: Send Alert.


"Food," croaks out the Zombie Darcy before she turns and heads back into the holy mother of monkey jesus christ on a stick! There's a girl on her sofa! Darcy gives a bit of a shriek (and then immediately regrets that), and fumbles for… where's her tazer?!

Oh, wait! Black haired angel. Right!

"Fuck! You scared the piss outta me. Ohmygod, tell the sun to shut the hell up. I'm getting coffee. Because there's coffee. You want coffee? I'll go pour some coffee." Zombie Darcy with an adrenaline rush shambles back toward the kitchen.


The moment Kwabena's computer makes a sound, the Ghanaian jerks to life. There is but a split second of silver-eyed awareness, before the entirety of his half-blanketed nakedness transforms into a mess of swirling black smoke tendrils. The cloud forms an appendage, which disappears off screen and returns bearing a switchblade in hand. Only then does the African reform, completely naked and wielding aforementioned switchblade, aimed directly at…

… his computer.

Lips peel back into a toothy, ivory wince. There's someone else visible in the feed. With alarmingly quick motions, he snatches up his blanketry and throws it over himself, before virtually rolling off the bed and out of sight.

Now showing an empty bed, there comes sound from the feed, some rustling about and the banging together of a porcelain mug against a plastic coffee maker.


Nancy just watches, amused as Darleen walks this way and that, passed her several times before noticing. At the shriek, she can't help but laugh, smiling from ear to ear. "Well, it's good to see you're feeling so much better." She rises to her feet and goes to shut the curtains of the main room. She's not going to sleep any time soon.

Nancy goes to get her mug and brings it over to the kitchen. "I would love a refill, thank you. You want breakfast? Sit down and I'll make you something to eat."

Nancy notices the shifting to smoke and arches a brow. "Well, hello again. Haven't seen you in a while." Her tone is none too friendly, as if their last meeting was not one she wants to remember. As he scrambles to cover himself, Nancy smirks over to Darleen. "Like I haven't been looking at his junk all night while he was passed out on the bed. Didn't imagine him as the bashful sort." She waggles her fingers to the screen. "Yer gonna need two hands for that one, sunshine."


With Kwa brandishing a knife at the screen and Nancy offering breakfast, Darcy drops herself onto her sofa and turns the laptop so she and Nancy can both see it.

"Yes, since you're here and he's not and he had said something about breakfast. I'm equal opportunity, and I want an omelette. With cheese and a heart attack, please." OH wait! refill! Darcy hauls herself back up to her feet, having just remembered she'd offered Black Angel a cup before being distracted by breakfast and the seven dwarves hammering in her head to the tune of heigh ho.


When Kwabena returns to view, he's clothed. Somewhat. Gunmetal gray shorts and a black tank top, both made of the heavy, skin-tight fabric that Nancy may have recognized from Kush, perhaps even one-piece like a wrestling singlet. Odd choice of attire, but there were reasons. He's got a mug of black coffee in hand and is working on draping a collared shirt over his finely crafted torso. He sees Darce appear and leave again, during which he simply takes a drink from his coffee and watches. Silver eyes eventually track over toward Nancy, and he offers a wave with his free hand. "Hey dere." Is he concerned that these two may have been spying on him? Doesn't seem like it.


Nancy nods as she has been given a request for an omelette. She looks to see if there is cheese in the fridge, what she has to work with other then what she brought. "Ummm…. I'm guessing you eat out. A lot." Okay, omelettes are out since she highly doubts that was blue cheese. Change of plans. She gets out the frypan and starts to work.

Nancy shooes Darleen out of the kitchen. "Sit sit sit. And here, have a glass of orange juice. And some tylenol. I can pour my own coffee." She still hasn't introduced herself. Maybe having had to done so about 8 times over the course of the night she feels that it might have sunk in by now.

Has she been spying on the guy on the computer screen? Hell yeah! But only so much as to watch how he sleeps. Bad Nancy! No cookie!


Shooed, Darcy takes her drink and her meds, downing both before dropping to the sofa and turning the laptop to face her.

"You. Not a nice person. I'm hungover. Do you know the last time I was hungover like this? It was PK ago. Seriously. I do not like you anymore." Darcy pauses a moment to drink some more OJ before, "You on your way over, Snailbait? Cause I wanted to eat your meat so bad I didn't eat dinner last night." Which explains the drunk off her ass-ness. "You owe me."

Darcy jabs a finger at the screen. Because that makes it important!


All of these excuses and blame shifting and everything else, it seems to go right over Kwabena's head. He scratches at the back of his head while absorbing all of it, but it isn't until there's a call to action that he seems to snap out of it. Darleen isn't the only one suffering from last night's Burning Human Rager.

"Huh? Oh. You ah…" He tries to remember. "Midtown? East side." Close to where he's at, in the Bronx. Then, he squints at the computer's clock, doing some rough math in his head. "Can you give me, ah, twenty minutes?"


Cooking in the kitchen, Nancy smirks as she listens in on the conversation. She figures the eating of the hot guy's meat is not what she is thinking, but that doesn't stop her from thinking it. Why? Cause she is an unrepentant dirty birdy!

Since omelettes aren't an option, Nancy makes one of her favourites; bacon, with fried toast with a hole cut in the center of it to fry the egg.

Overhearing the guy's comments, Nancy chuckles. "Hope he likes bacon and eggs. I'll make more for him too. Tell him to get here in 15 or I'm eating his share."


Darcy's eyes lift tot he kitchen where her new bestie (What's her name again?!) is cooking breakfast.

"Oh hell yes! Eggs and Bacon!" says the Sass Mastah before turning to lean into the computer screen.

"You got fifteen, soldier. Or you're on scrub duty without chow!" And Darcy kills the video call so as not to distract him. One of her skating buddies was an army brat, and Peacewar Practices were like mini army recruit bootcamps.


Nancy is busily cooking, but has time to chat and sip at her coffee. "So, how much of last night do you remember? How much am I going to have to fill in?" She does not ask how someone that seems as nice as her knows a murderer like the guy that was on the screen of her computer. One, she might not know what he does in his off time, and two, you don't out people. Ever. Gay, mutant, murdering bastard. Doesn't matter. You don't out people.


Curled up on her sofa, Darcy covers her eyes with a hand, moaning the hangover anthme: God, Kill Me Now. As Nancy chats, Darcy peeks out from between fingers with a studiously stupid look. Wait, no. It's a stupidly studious lok. Something.

"Ah… Since I'm this hungover, and you're dressed, I wasn't epic. Since you're cooking me breakfast, I was good enough for you to want seconds," Darcy says, giving all the perfectly wrong conclusions she's used to experiencing in these moments.

"We give Kwa a show? Did I pick you up at the bar? Wow! Bobbo's a fucking sweetheart to not have stuck around for this. Unless I missed him in the shower or something?" Darcy looks toward her bathroom, as if looking for the ice nerd.


Nancy leans on the counter and listens, smirking to herself at the conclusions. Is this how funny it is when she makes assumptions like this, cause damn! This is funny as hell! She sips at her coffee and waits for Darleen to finish. "So… you want me to tell you what really happened? Or make up something super hot for you to regret not remembering?"


Not seeing Bobby in her shower is a bit of a let down. Blonde + blue eyes = dreamy. If he dropped them both off at Darcy's place but didn't stick around, he's probably a prude. And gay.

"Damn. Why are all the cute ones gay?" Darcy grouses at her thoughts aloud, turning to Nancy. OOooh. A choice.

"This is a hard decision for a girl," she quotes, pushing herself up to go sit at the little bar thing that serves as her only eating surface. Darcy does eat out alot, or eats TV dinners. She sometimes cooks, but everything is fast easy meals, like frozen pizza or hamburger helper. There's plenty of tuna cans. And potato chips.

"Let's play both ways. Tell me the super hot version so I can be all disappointed and mad, and then lay the real thing on me so I don't feel like such an epic fail," Darcy requests finally, reaching for some coffee. Juice is nice. Coffee is best. "Pass the creamer? It's in the fridge. French Vanilla: Orgasm in a cup."


Nancy arches a brow. "If the gay cute one is Bobbo, he's not. He's in a pretty serious relationship with this super hawt chick that is amazingly awesome. Totally devoted to her. Eyes for no one else sorta guy." She nods her head, hiding her smirk behind her coffee mug. Can't have someone assuming the coolest boyfriend ever is gay. Hell no!

Nancy goes to get the creamer. "Okay, so, Bobby called me last night and said he needed help with this super hot chick he met in a bar. I showed up and we went to her place and had an threesome that made her toes curl. Then, after exhausting poor Bobby, we got on Skype and put on a show for your friend over there. Finally, you wore me out with your prowess and I have declared my undying love and devotion to you and am now your love slave, hence the making you breakfast." Her pale grey eyes dance with mirth. "That good enough? Or should I go into more detail?"

She finally laughs. "Truth is, Bobby called me, said you were seriously drunk. He knows I have a lot of experience with drunk people and he wasn't comfortable taking care of a woman, cause you might think he was less then a gentleman. So, Nancy to the rescue. Made sure you didn't asphyxiate in the middle of the night, cleaned you up, put you in a pair of my pjs, and let you sleep it off. That's the real thing. Sorry to disappoint."


"Well. That's a completely different kind of Suck for me, but completely awesome for him and Hawt Chick," Darcy replies to the defense of Bobby's honor. WIth her creamer, Darcy makes her coffee… her coffee flavored creamer drink, to be exact. She listens to the Hot Version (TM), nodding to eat of the ''facts'' presented as if they were just a matter of course. Because certainly this is exactly how Darcy's fancy would have gone down, devoted love-slave and all.

"You may call me Sass Mastah and write all the sorid details for me so I can read it for bedtime," Darcy demands as she takes her first sip of coffee.

"Well, that was sweet of him. Especially since he's got that Super Hawt Girlfriend and all. She's a lucky little bitch. So, thanks, Ms. Drew. Your pajamas are comfy and I'm not giving them back unless you strip me out of them. I migh tbe kicking, screaming, and - or trying to seduce you again," she adds grinning, putting her coffee aside to make room for plate of breakfast.

Put it in my mouth! :O <- - meow.


Now, if someone were actually running a stopwatch, it would be hitting approximately 14 minutes, 36 seconds when the duo are a out to be digging into their food without Kwabena. This act is interrupted by the buzzing of Darcy's intercom. "Hey, don't fahk yah food without me!" he announces over the comm, his accent possibly making things… misunderstood.

Once the door is unlocked, Kwabena rushes upstairs. How did he know which apartment belongs to Darcy? Well, it was the call button marked 'SASS MASTAH', of course. There's a knock at the door, and outside stands one requested-for Ghanaian. He's got a motorcycle helmet tucked beneath his arm, and hasn't yet taken off the black leather jacket worn to protect the black, collared shirt from bugs and the like. Almost-skinny jeans are upon his legs, and a pair of black combat boots adorn his feet, a bit too big and intentionally sloppy looking. Why? Because, fashion. The guy apparently hits sample sales, because a keen mind might price out his outfit at over $1,000. Nudie Jeans, Skullcrimp, Akira, those are the brands adorning his frame, but fuck spending full price on designer shit like that.


Nancy turns to the food, putting it on plates as it becomes ready. One, two, three. Only there is an absense of the hawtness that was supposed to join them. She eats a slice of bacon from his plate and then puts hers and Darleen's on the counter for them to enjoy. "Yes, Sass Mastah. As my mistress wishes," she says with a smirk. She makes a mental note to tell Bobby that Darleen has declared his girlfriend as lucky and hawt. Yep.

She is about to take a mouthful when the intercom buzzes. "Okay, he's good, I'll give him that." The words over the intercom cause her to laugh. "Buddy, bacon is like the best food ever, but it is soooo not fuck worthy." Clearly, she misunderstands the accent. She looks him over as he stands in the doorway. "Well, damn if you don't look better in person." You know, when not holding a gun and shooting someone with it.


"Kwa. You are a sick man. I might fuck on food, near food, around food, with food, but I never fuck the food," Darcy says to him as he bursts into the apartment like a darker and better dressed versin of Kramer.

"Better hurry or we're going to eat all of it and never you with nothing. My solemn promise. I will do it," she adds, while stuffing her mouth full of bacon.

"I pick the best people," Darcy adds to Nancy then, giving a sage nod of her head. Because sagenodding Darcy is a serious Darcy. Yes.


"What?" Kwabena looks between the two of them, utterly confused. "Who said anything about fucking food??" Mirth dances in his eyes. English might be his second language, but he's had plenty of experience with people misunderstanding him, and yes… he did put it that way intentionally.

As he moves into the apartment, his silver eyes glance about, observing. Curious as to what a girl like Darcy does with her interior decorating. "I said 'fahk' yah food. You know, with a fahk. Not a spoon."

He's got his plate in hand when he turns around to offer a hand to Nancy. "I'm Kwabena. Dahcy's been stalking me with text messages. But Ah promahse, Ah'm not rahsponsable for what she did with tequila last night." He glances Darcy's way smirking. "Tequila was hah idea. I suggested whiskey."

No, it would seem that Kwabena does not at all recognize Nancy from Kush.


Nancy takes the offered hand, though her reception to Kwabena is chilly. "Nancy. And… did you say Darcy?" She looks over to Darcy. "Oooooh! That's what you were saying. And here I thought your name was Darlene all this time." She pops in a piece of bacon in her mouth. "So, why all the drinking last night? Just too much of a good time or trying to blot out the sun?"


OH MY GOD! Darcy's apartment is a study in College Girl living on her own. It's clean but untidy. There are clothes laying here and there, a Blood and Thunder magazine laying open to the Derby section, and the remote is UNDER the sofa. She's few posters, no DvDs (because why carry DVDs when you can stream your content?), and an out of date flat screen with a cable for her laptop to connect to it. The moden and router sit in a place of prominence. The internet wifi is important.

"Whiskey is a vile drink, and tequila is boss. Besides, I like tequila because it reminds me of when Tahkillya put me on the floor and that is a happy memory," she retorts are Kwabena while chewing and eating without remorse for her lack of table manners. Green eyes dances toward Nancy.

"Darlene? Oh, fuck I was drunk like a skunk, dude. Sorry. Darcy. Darcy. The drinking was to celebrate a three day weekend from work. Finally! Thank God! No more staples for two more days!"


If there's one thing Kwabena is used to, it's chilly greetings. In fact, most of his life involves chilly greetings. The thing is, ever since he met DarLENE, he's enjoyed a small touch of normalcy. It felt nice; a distraction from the horrible things he's witnessed and fought against lately.

Because of this, he simply takes Nancy's chill as disappointment and blame. It's true, he may be partly responsible for Darcy's condition this morning, but fuck. Adults are adults and make their own damn decisions, so he meets it with a sly grin.

"Whiskey is not a viah drink," Kwabena counters, insulted. "Cheap whiskey, is." He pauses for a moment, digging into his food. A look of genuine appreciation flashes, and during a pause after swallowing, he looks between the two, deciding on Nancy. He points at her with a fork. "You made dis, didn't you? Delicious." As for the drinking? "Burning Human." Enough said. He's back to devouring the food… and glancing out the window to make sure no cops are here, given he was going about 120 down the highway.


Nancy chuckles. "I'm a vodka drinker, so I think you're both wrong," she tells them with a grin. "And I was where you are, Darce. I tried to out drink a Russian on my 21st birthday. Bad… Bad idea. I'm telling you right now, when it comes to vodka, it is humanly impossible to outdrink a Russian. Believe me. Not humanly possible."

When Kwabena assumes rightly that she made breakfast, Nancy nods her head graciously. "I've made breakfast for hangovers many many times. Just greasy enough without being so greasy it makes you feel grosser."


"She's my love slave. You can't have her," Dacry tells Kwabena around (through?) a mouthful of egg and bacon. Washing it down with coffee, she sighs in contentment and drops her chin to a hand. "I'm never letting you go. Call Bobbo and tell him I'm keeping you," says teh Darce, eyelashes a flutter.


"I usually resaht to de gyro place down de road," Kwabena remarks. It was one of those hole in the wall, hood spots run by Lebanese dudes, cheap as hell, big as fuck, and capable of curing a hangover in ten minutes.

Darcy's remark has him looking back at her. Having shoveled his food away in record time, he sets the plate down on the tiny bar and shifts over, hooking his arm around her shoulders. "She's all yours, bounty huntah," he quips. "Good to see you made it home in one piece. I'll have to thank Bahbby next time I see him."


Finishing her breakfast, Nancy gets up and takes Kwabena's empty plate. Heading into the kitchen, she starts filling hte sink with hot soapy water. "Yep, that's me. Darcy's love slave. Boy, Bobby is gonna regret having called me to help. His loss. Sucka." She comes back to grab Darcy's plate, refilling her cup f coffee and Kwa's too. Yeah yeah, Nancy's a little domestic. Comes from having taken care of her alcoholic mother for so many years. "So, you're a bounty hunter?" she asks Darcy. "And I love your derby mags. Was reading them all night when I wasn't holding your head."


Darcy lean-thumps her should into Kwabena, grinning up at him as Nancy takes her plate.

"Smart move. I could take you down with a paper clip and a pack of post-it notes," Darcy smiles, green eyes mischievous. As her coffee's refilled, Darcy says thank you and takes a sip.

"Bobba Fett's got nothing, baby. OH, you like 'em? Thanks. I know the bitch on the cover. Great to see her doing s'well, ya know?" Darcy sips more coffee, happy and content.


With a certain fondness, Kwabena grins at Darcy. "Hey, I called you bounty huntah, not McGyvah." Nancy receives a nod of gratitude at the coffee, waving off any cream or sugar. He takes it black, like his skin. Releasing Darcy, he picks up the mug of coffee and takes a tentative sip, looking between the two for a moment. "So, you two just met. And you're cooking hah breakfast and cleaning up hah place?" He eyes Nancy with mock suspicion. "What's yah play here? You gonna extaht de Sass Mastah or something?"


Refilling her own cup before she puts the pot back on the coffee maker, Nancy smiles over to the pair as she sits down. She chuckles at Kwa's question. "Ahhh. Ain't you sweet. First you give me a show all night and now yer protecting Darcy's honor. Nah, Bobby called me. He knows about me taking care of my mom, so this is a dance I've done before. And he didn't feel comfortable getting Darcy out of her clothes to clean her up. So.. Nancy to the rescue."

She raises her shoulders in a shrug. "What can I say? Drunk people bring out the best in me." She pulls out a lollipop from a pocket and starts stirring her coffee with it.


"Whatever. MacGyver is the best. Especially in SG1," retorts the Darce as she sips her coffee. Letting Nancy answer, Darcy just nods her head in agreement with everything Nancy said, while smiling brightly as Kwa defends her honor. She leans over to give Kwabena a kiss on the cheek.

"Sweet as mollasses," drawls the green-eyed girl, who STILL hasn't put on her glasses, so all-uh-y'all're blurry!

"Shit. I'm staying drunk around you twenty-four-seven, Nanna," quips Darcy, winking to take the sting out. She had a drunk uncle. She didn't take care of him, but he was an asshole. Darcy really hopes she wasn't a drunk asshole like him. Since Nancy's still here, likely she wasn't. But STILL!


Someone earlier may have considered Kwabena bashful. Well, he looks right at Nancy, and very dryly replies, "Good show, huh." The grin is delayed, and he adds, "All de more reason to drink, den. I know a place with bottomless mimosahs every Satahday."

Seems he and Darcy have similar responses. With an intentionally nonchalant manner, he frees a hand from his mug and offers a fist for the bumping.


Darcy bumps Kwabena's fist with her own. booyah.


Nancy snorts as the pair of them decide she gets to play drunk babysitter. Figures. Her mom is finally starting to dry up and now she gets two new people to care for. What interesting directions her life has turned in. "Hey, I only do the whole babysitting thing if I get to see you naked. Consider it payment." She winks at the pair of them, letting them decide for themselves if she is serious or not.


If she's not, Darcy leans back and pulls up her top for Nancy. She counts to three then pulls her shirt down, finishes her coffee, and stands up. "I'm going to go nap now. Ya'll have fun and no one steal my shit. I will find you. I know people." With a wave, off she goes.


Kwabena opens his mouth to speak, but then Darcy is pulling up her shirt. Now, he's not exactly as polite as someone like Bobby. He turns to look at her, then he looks down at her, and stares. When she's finally off, he looks back at Nancy, eyebrows having shot up in the air. "Well," he quips dryly, "that's two of three."

Not that he's suggesting Nancy get naked. He's not that much of an asshole.

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