Not really a whole lot to say about this one, it's a shorter filler. Just a little bit more character exposition and some terrible jokes, which are the best kind of jokes. Things will actually pick up into a more action-y feel in the next chapter, though that's not the main basis of this story (like I said, it's basically a bromance fic and my first experience at not actually writing romance).

I'm still taking superhero name suggestions, and I've already gotten some to consider but I hope you guys chime in with your own ideas.

Other than that, though, I hope you're still enjoying the story and the liberties I'm taking with it. As always, keep following/favoriting and I would love some reviews. Please?

Adara.

Chapter Nine:

July 04, 1990, Location: Chesapeake Beach, MD

"Papou!" At only five years old, Nicole Dugan was growing like a weed to the point where it was painfully obvious that before too long she would shoot right over her mother's head. Not that it stopped the huge man that was Timothy Dugan from scooping up the gangly child and swinging her around in his arms.

She was one of his best girls, after all.

"Hey there string bean, we were wondering when you two would get here! Your nana has already set up the picnic table and scoped out the best spot to watch the fireworks." Not many people would associate Dugan as a family man, but his Meredith had brought him two healthy children and in turn they'd given him a manageable number of grandchildren.

Two was just enough to handle, though he would have liked for one of them to have been a boy.

Dugan wasn't necessarily one to pick favorites among his grandkids—he loved them all equally—but Nicole had been the first one, and she'd had two years to wrap him around her little finger.

"Nana always picks the best spots!" Nicole added sagely, looking at her grandfather as though this should be something that he already knew. Dugan chuckled at that, balancing the child on his hip as he reached out to pull his daughter into a hug. Emily returned the embrace loosely, the top of her head barely reaching his chest as she allowed herself to be squeezed close.

"Hi dad. Are Mark and Ellen here?" The woman asked curiously, eyes drifting over past the area where the table and grill were set up.

Dugan released his daughter, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. "They're with Kate playing in the water. Peggy and Danny are here too, as well as Howard and Maria."

"Did they manage to drag Tony out of his lab long enough to come too?" The redheaded woman inquired lightly, lips drawing back into a slight smile. The boy was twenty and thought he had his life figured out, it would be a miracle if his parents would be able to pull him out of his lab.

"Oh he's not thrilled about it, but yeah." He snorted, smiling down at his youngest. Her hair was the same shade of red as his, an unexpected change from Mere's dark brown curls, though she had her mother's eyes.

"Papou…" Nicole whined, squirming expectantly. "Can I? Please?"

He looked down at her, one eyebrow arching until he met those big, brown puppy dog eyes.

He was a weak man.

"Just be careful with it." Dugan sighed, setting his granddaughter down as she started bouncing on the balls of her sandaled feet.

"I always am!" The child beamed, her face and bare arms smattered with more than a liberal share of freckles. The red haired man lifted one large hand and removed his bowler hat, placing it gently on the girl's hand. "How do I look?"

"Like you could have passed as one of the Commandoes." He chuckled, the words worn and familiar.

Nicole let out a squeal of delight, gangly legs taking off in a run as she went streaking to where the others were waiting. "Peggy! Look! I've got the hat!"

Dugan watched his granddaughter run, her darker hair bound back in a braid that had wisps of curls flaring out around her face. Nicole was his number one fan, showing more interest in all of his stories than any of his kids ever had. She would usually hang on his every word, and curl onto his lap when he started reminiscing about his days in the war. He loved that kid, it was evident in the warmth in his eyes whenever he looked at her. Recently however, worry began to creep into that gaze.

"How has she been doing?" He asked, arms crossed as he watched Nicole dancing around Peggy happily. "Are the nightmares back?"

"Have they ever left?" Emily offered dryly, though her lips were twisted worriedly. "She doesn't remember them though, and she's been warmer than usual. It's like she has a fever, but other than eating like a bottomless pit, she hasn't shown any signs of illness."

Nicole didn't know what her momma and Papou were talking about, but she did look up to find them watching her. There was an expression on their faces that she had seen momma wearing before, the expression that she didn't quite know what it meant. But then Howard came over and Peggy promised to tell her about the time that Captain America saved the 107th, and she forgot that they were looking at her.

She forgot that they would have that expression on their faces all through the day, even when the fireworks started exploding over the water.

IOI

September 09, 2011, Location: The Capital Grille, 601 Pennsylvania Ave NW, Washington DC

"I would like to very formally make an apology for making you stay here two days longer than planned. I humbly beg your forgiveness." Nicole peered over the top edge of her menu at that, arching a curious eyebrow over at Steve.

"Is this you begging, blondie? Because I expected a little more in the lines of groveling and compliments." She replied haughtily, using the thick menu to hide the smile threatening to overwhelm her features. "Frankly, I feel like you could try a little harder."

"You see, this," He made a sweeping motion in his direction, "is me trying to have a moment." Nicole folded her menu carefully when he gestured vaguely to her. "And this is you ruining it."

"What can I say?" She drawled, letting the twangs of her southern accent come out in full force as she took a sip of her wine. "It's practically my middle name. Honestly, the nurse was quite surprised when she received the birth certificate that read Nicole Moment-Ruiner Dugan."

"Hmm…" Steve appeared contemplative for a moment as he reached for his own glass. "It fits. Still, I am sorry. I didn't expect to find so much wrong with that exhibit."

What had started as a brief meeting with Dr. Pisani had turned into a tour of the Captain America exhibit. And that had resulted in Steve listing off all of the numerous things that the museum had gotten wrong about his life. They'd ended up staying a few days more as Steve had set the record straight and offered even more supplemental information. After the first few hours of Nicole's smug smirk, Pisani had politely asked her to leave and not return if she wasn't going to be able to maintain at least some modicum of professional decorum.

Granted, Nicole could be very professional when it mattered, she just had a hard time when it came to the vindication of years of being snubbed and told that both she and her grandfather were wrong. So she had graciously excused herself from the doctor's office, and had spent the rest of the afternoon exploring some of her old haunts around the city. She'd toured the museum of natural history, the zoological park, as well as exploring some of the monuments. All things that she had hoped to tour with Steve as soon as he'd been done. Unfortunately for her, Steve had been inside Pisani's office almost every day for the past three days straight.

Today had been the last day; Steve had exhausted every story he could bear to tell—some of the ones that it physically hurt to recall but he did anyway because those stories needed to be told—and they'd spent what remaining free time they had exploring their nation's capital. Which was how they found themselves at one of the best restaurants in DC, one of her personal favorites once she'd gotten enough pay that she could afford to go somewhere as nice, sharing a bottle of wine and celebrating the end of a trip that was emotionally exhausting for the both of them.

Not only had she been on the phone with the insurance company practically non-stop, but… She'd tried to keep herself from doing it, but Nicole had been drawn to her old elementary school like a moth to the flame—and the irony of that wasn't lost on her. The silhouette was just as she remembered it, though the playground had been renovated. And someone had painted a mural on the huge brick wall, the part of the school that had needed repaired after what she'd done. It was a beautiful piece of artwork, really, a commemoration of the history of the school. The people and events that brought the community together and of course, there in the middle, the memorial of the boy who had died in a horrible accident.

She felt her stomach twist sharply, she thought she was going to be sick as she looked at the faces that were immortalized in her nightmares. Once upon a time she had tried to follow up, to find out what had happened to the two who had survived but… it had been too painful. And it had been her fault; it was best if she just let them live their own lives.

That night both she and Steve had returned to the hotel with haunted expressions on their face. They hadn't shared more than a few words before going to bed.

Tonight, however, they were determined to enjoy their last night in the capital before returning back to New York and the grind of daily life. Both she and Steve had ended up missing a session with Dr. Cross, meaning that next week they would, respectively, have a lot to talk about. Especially since they'd made a trip up to the Triskelion to reclaim more of his things; items that had been in his footlocker and returned from the other Howling Commandoes, as well as several different museums and historians. It had taken some effort to convince those people that the items in question deserved to be returned to their rightful owner, and they had spent some time picking and choosing what Steve absolutely wanted back and what he was content to leave. There had been quite a lot of items that had fallen into the latter category, really, with Steve's insistence on reclaiming only a few very personal items such as some of his sketchbooks and pictures.

"Yeah… I mean, gramps tried telling them that. All of the Commandos told them but nobody ever seemed to want to listen." She smirked, enjoying the way the zesty flavors of the white wine rolled around on her tongue.

Typically she didn't much care for the stuff, but this was a special circumstance and special circumstances deserved special accommodations. As well as the fact that she was planning on an order of the oysters, and the chardonnay went quite well with them.

"But," the redhead grinned, raising her glass in a toast. "We survived! To us!"

"To us." Steve agreed, clinking his glass against hers. "All things considered, it was a fun trip though."

Nicole snapped her menu closed with a flourish, eyebrows wriggling suggestively. "That is because you're with me, and I'm obviously the most fun friend you've ever been to DC with."

"Considering that the last time I was in DC…?" The sentence dwindled to a destination that they were both familiar with. "Yeah, I'll agree."

"Oh, hey, do you want to share an appetizer?" Nicole asked curiously, "Because the oysters are to die for."

Steve contemplated the offer, blue eyes dropping to inspect where they were listed. "This is a little pricey."

Nicole sighed at that; Steve was a child born of the Great Depression, she understood the idea of wanting to save money but they were celebrating.

"Hey," She called, drawing his attention with a smile. "Considering the fact that we've been covering our food for the past couple of days on our own, this qualifies as a work expense. So technically SHIELD is buying."

He leveled an unconvinced look at her, leaning back slightly. "That does not help your case. Are you sure we can't go somewhere—"

To say that the blonde looked affronted when she shushed him would be an understatement. "You're ruining the good vibes. Come on, it's our last night in DC, just relax and enjoy the food. And, you know, my company or whatever."

He glared in challenge at that, their eyes the pathway for a silent battle of will that Nicole was determined to win even if she had to order the damn oysters and force them down his throat. And as though he could read her thoughts, Steve relented with a sigh before nodding. "Alright, get 'em if you want."

Truth was, Steve probably hadn't been to a restaurant this nice before. Not that the restaurant itself was particularly high end—jeans and a t-shirt seemed to be the norm in the casual atmosphere—but she imagined that between trying to make ends meet in an economy that had been at its record low and then being sent overseas to war, there hadn't been much opportunity to go out to eat. Especially somewhere that could range to a bill easily hitting over one hundred dollars. And her friend wasn't an idiot, he no doubt realized the general ballpark of where their bill would hit and would be ordering conservatively.

Nicole was unconcerned however, because she figured that SHIELD could afford to handle one dinner for the two of them. Even if it did lean towards the fancier side.

As soon as they'd reached a common consensus their waiter swooped in—like a bird of prey—to take their orders.

"Are you two all ready to order?" He asked cheerfully, not at all looking like he'd just gotten done dealing with a particularly difficult table.

As someone who had put in their time of customer service and waitressing, Nicole could commiserate and put on her best smile. "Well, I don't know about my friend here, but I certainly am!"

He returned the expression easily, pulling out a pad of paper. "What can I get for you?"

"Well, we would love to start out with an appetizer of the oysters, the Fanny Bay's, please. And then for my entrée can I have the sirloin? Rare please." She asked sweetly, ignoring the teasing way that Steve's eyes lit up at her overly polite tones.

"Absolutely. And for you, sir?" The blonde on the other hand looked much less certain in his decision.

Nicole leaned back in her seat, drumming her fingers along the edge of the table as she resisted the urge to check her phone. It was a bad habit of the growing advances in technology, one that was more often than not at war with the ideals of common courtesy and respect that she'd been raised with. Not that she had any plans of staring at her phone during the entirety of dinner, but she was constantly worried of work needing to get ahold of her, or some catastrophe going on at home.

"Um…" Steve flipped through the menu options once more. "I'm not really sure. What would you recommend?"

"Well," The waiter—Dylan if she recalled correctly—leaned over the blonde's shoulder slightly as his eyes scanned the menu. "If you're a fan of seafood, I would recommend the citrus glazed salmon. If you're up for more of a challenge, the seared tenderloin and lobster tails offer the best surf and turf experience."

There was something in that tone that made Nicole look up, her face carefully controlled to project an aura of polite disinterest as her eyes picked up on every minute detail between the two men. The slight tilt of the waiter's head, the way his body was pointed directly towards Steve, the way the blonde completely arrested his attention. The way that Steve would shift his attention back and forth with the slightest close lipped smile and—oh goodness, somebody was flirting. And somebody else was sort of flirting back.

This was certainly new.

"I… hmm." Steve chewed on his lip in a way that, while it might seem an innocent gesture to him had the full attention of the waiter. "I'll have to take you up on that challenge and go with the steak and lobster. Can I get mine medium rare, though?"

Nicole pressed her lips together at that; the way his blue eyes lifted and met those light green ones directly, the way he was still smirking.

She was willing to bet that before the night was over, there would be a phone number on their receipt.

"Absolutely! I'll put the orders in to the chef and bring your appetizer right out." Drawn out of her subtle observations as the waiter reached for her menu, Nicole lit up with another smile. Brown eyes were sharp as he walked away though, picking up on the inconspicuous way that Steve found his eyes following almost absently.

It made her wonder, a question forming behind her lips but remaining closed behind her teeth. It was a delicate inquiry, one that could be very difficult to word properly because she didn't want to offend her friend or make him uncomfortable.

"I have a question." Nicole broached, the words out of her mouth before she had the cognitive ability to monitor them. "I mean, you don't have to answer it if you don't want to. But I feel like if you don't answer it, that kind of answers the question and—"

"Ask your question." Steve chuckled, lifting his eyes to regard her in amusement. "Before your head pops off."

"Okay," She took a deep breath. "First off, just let me say that no matter how you answer, it's fine but… do you…?"

Her eyes flicked purposefully to where Dylan was refilling the coffee of another table. Steve followed her gaze, his brow furrowing in confusion. "Do I what?"

She took a deep breath, weighing her words carefully in her head. "It's… it's not something that was very often discussed, and I don't want you to think that there's anything wrong with your answer—it doesn't cause any issue with your masculinity or anything—but are you, ah…"

"Attracted to men?" He offered helpfully, making her mouth gape open for a second before she tactfully shut it again. "It wasn't too hard to see you leading up to that."

"That's minus one for my tact." She muttered, dragging her hand down her face. "I'm just—you don't have to answer if it makes you uncomfortable—but it's not as socially stigmatized."

"I'm aware of that, actually." Steve informed her, rubbing the back of his neck. "I, ah, was doing a bit of research after that discussion we had before we left New York."

"I see." She wanted to ask more, and Steve seemed to draw out his answer. His face was slightly tinted with color, no doubt a little uncomfortable with the turn of their conversation. While she was used to people being much more open about their sexuality and the things they were comfortable talking about, Steve had lived in a more reserved time. "Well that's all of the answer I need, you don't have to—"

"I am." He answered, the words coming out somberly. "I mean, I'm attracted to women as well—obviously—but yeah. When I was a kid, back in the twenties, people were more open with that sort of thing. It wasn't quite like this, but there were ways to know. Of course, by the time I realized how I really felt everyone was so obsessed with being masculine that if you weren't crazy about girls then there was something wrong with you."

She was touched that Steve was willing to share this, because she expected it to have been something that he didn't actually talk about, and not for the first time Nicole was amazed by how far their friendship had come.

"There is definitely not something wrong with you, Steve." Her face screwed up thoughtfully then. "Well, okay, no. See, you like your coffee black so that is something wrong with you. And you don't know how to use a laundry basket. I take that back, there are a lot of things wrong with you, you weirdo, but being bisexual isn't one of them."

Steve snorted at her then, looking as though he would like nothing more than to ball up his napkin and throw it at her. "Do you see that? It's the moment, and it's dying. Slowly."

"A-ha! I live up to my namesake!" The redhead cheered happily, earning a glare from the table behind her. Steve chuckled at that, unable to resist at the sheepish look on her face as she ducked her head. "Oops."

"Can't take you anywhere." The blonde muttered darkly, though the light in his eyes took any potential sting from those words. "Okay, now I have a question. And, you don't have to answer it if you don't want to… but I feel like if you don't answer it, you're answering it so—"

"Think you're so funny, don't you?" Nicole scoffed. "Ask your question, nerd-o."

"How did you know that you were demisexual?" His expression looked thoughtful, hesitant. "And what made you suspect about me?"

Now that was a good question. The first one anyway, the latter… "I'm a field agent, remember? I'm good at picking up small details. The waiter was obviously flirting with you, and you were being a little flirty back."

He pressed a hand to the back of his neck, thumb digging in slightly as a faint flush of color lit up his features. "That obvious?"

Nicole let out a huffing laugh, swirling the wine around her glass as her hands sought to do… something with her hands. "If you know what to look for, yeah. I mean, he's cute though, so if you need a wing man."

"I don't actually think I'm ready for that sort of thing." Steve replied honestly, leaning back in his chair as he watched her. "Hard enough figuring all of this out without throwing romance in the mix."

There was something that he wasn't saying, something quiet that spoke of heartache and in that moment Nicole was painfully reminded of Peggy Carter. Captain America's number one girl, who he had been in love with—was still in love with—and was now a grandmother. Something that she wasn't stupid enough to assume Steve wasn't aware of, and it had to twist deep inside his chest whenever he was reminded of that fact.

"As for your first question…" She took another drink of the wine, bigger than the previous sips. "I mean, going into high school all of my friends couldn't shut up about how cute Orlando Bloom was and to me… well, I just thought he was aesthetically pleasing."

Steve sat forward in interest, but Nicole kept a pensive look at the remaining liquid in her glass. "And they just kept talking about boys, and sex, especially as we got older. I just… couldn't relate. Like I thought that the boys they were talking about were attractive, yeah, but it wasn't the same. I always figured that there was something wrong with me, and I didn't really know who—or how—to talk to about it. But then, when I was seventeen, everything sort of changed."

Her eyes turned wistful, bittersweet memories lifting to the service. "I remember it well, it was a lovely July afternoon, and I was sitting with one of my best friends out by the fountain at his house. I forget what we were talking about, but I looked over and… wow. It wasn't anything special and yet it really was; I saw his profile in the sun and next thing I knew I was blushing like mad and felt warm and just wanted to kiss him."

"He was the one that… I lost in May." Those last words came out in barely a whisper, heavy and laden with tangible emotion as Nicole bit hard on the inside of her cheek. The external pain served as a brief distraction from the internalized heartache, and the redhead felt her gaze shifting when a hand closed around her own limp one.

"It always sucks losing someone you care about." Steve offered gently and she could feel the thread of empathy forming between them. Because he knew; Steve Rogers unequivocally knew what it felt like to lose both friends and family.

They pulled apart when the waiter returned, carrying the plate of oysters in his hand. "Here are your oysters, and the rest of your order has already been put through to the chef. Is there anything else I can get for you folks?"

Her eyes lit up as the dish was gingerly set down between them; she had loved seafood—especially shellfish—since she had been old enough to eat it. And oysters were one of her absolute favorite, especially if they were prepared just right. So far in all of her trips to the Capital Grille, she had yet to be disappointed.

"Can I get a glass of water please?" She asked curiously, lifting her eyes briefly to meet with the waiter.

"Absolutely!" The young man turned to Steve with a slight smile. "Would you like some water as well?"

"Yes, please." The blonde nodded, eyeing the shellfish somewhat warily. Whereas Nicole was studying the dish with a much more analytical expression. One of the first main rules of eating oysters was to eat with your eyes first; and as she studied each one Nicole was pleased to note that they filled out their shells excellently, and didn't look dried out in the slightest.

Steve on the other hand looked much more apprehensive.

"Have you ever eaten oysters before?" She asked curiously, peering at her friend.

He gave an almost rueful shake of the head in response. "I have not. Dernier got us to try escargot before—snails?—but that's about as experimental as I've been with my food."

"Well," Her cheeks turned bright with the force of restrained laughter. "There is definitely a difference between eating oysters and escargot. Okay, so the thing to keep in mind is that you should always eat the first one naked so to speak."

To prove her point, Nicole selected the shell closest to her and, taking a brief moment to appreciate the pattern on the interior, brought it to her nose. "A really good oyster should smell super fresh, just like the sea. Oyster tasting is an art, you see, not unlike wine tasting."

Steve mimicked her movements, sniffing cautiously at the oyster in his hand. "I think I know what you mean."

The aroma reminded Nicole of the vacation she'd spent out in Oregon with Trip. They had technically been out on an evaluated mission, but there had been enough downtime to make a stop at the ocean to go looking for shells and watch the tide. The scent, as well as the pleasant memories associated with it were one of the main reason why Fanny Bay oysters were her most preferred.

"Okay, now don't just slurp them down. Give them two to three good chews." She warned before tipping back to enjoy the appetizer. The taste itself was at first mildly briny—that was the first thing that hit you with an oyster—but as she chewed she tasted the sweetness and the cucumber finish.

It was interesting to watch the play of expressions across Steve's face as he ate his. The slight grimace as he got used to the texture, before he began chewing. Then his face turned thoughtful, contemplative and Nicole watched as he considered the taste in his mouth. She bounced slightly in her seat, taking a sip of chardonnay to accent the taste as she waited for the verdict.

"Well?" She placed the glass back on the table as he swallowed. "What do you think?"

"They're…" Steve weighed his words carefully, "not bad."

"Slimy yet satisfying?" The redhead prompted with a grin.

"Calm down there, Simba." Steve scoffed, lifting another. "But yes."

Nicole made a victorious noise in the back of her throat, pumping her fist and earning another dark look from the people behind her. This time the redhead chose to ignore it, instead going back to the appetizer. By nature Nicole had always been more of a slow eater; she liked to savor her meals and enjoy the different tastes, but with the oysters it was something else entirely. Still, with only six oysters split between the two of them it wasn't long until they were gone.

But then their entrees came and, with the exception of a little more lighthearted flirting, Steve and Nicole were left in peace to fill the time in-between bites with stories and jokes.

Such as the one she was in the middle of telling. "Anyway, so the kid gets back from the bathroom to find that his date just randomly passed out. Someone says to him, 'hey, you're her date, go get her some punch.' So he goes over to the punch table and thank god, there is no punch line."

Steve let out a disbelieving laugh that just toed the line between pitying as he sliced off another piece of steak. "That was the lamest joke I've ever heard."

"C'mon!" The redhead exclaimed in offense, "That joke is a classic."

"If that's the case I think it's time to put it out to pasture." He replied, pointing his fork at her absently. "I know you can do better than that."

Always willing to rise to a challenge, Nicole chewed thoughtfully. "Okay, try this one on for size blondie, it's a science joke. Helium walks into a bar and orders a beer. The bartender looks at him and says 'sorry, we don't serve noble gasses here.' He doesn't react."

Steve just looked at her, his face completely deadpanned before it cracked up into laughter so intense that after a few moments he was wiping tears out of the corner of his eyes. Nicole would be proud of herself for garnering that sort of reaction if it weren't for the fact that she was almost 100% positive that he was laughing more at her than with her.

"Oh God." Steve gasped, subsiding into near silent, shoulder shaking snickers. "I remember Bucky telling me that one when we were in middle school."

"You're killing me Rogers. I can actually feel myself shriveling up inside." Nicole groused, leaning back in her chair. "Fine. If you're so funny, wow me with a joke."

Steve finished off his steak, starting into the lobster tails as his lips pursed in concentration. "Uh… well, most of the jokes we told weren't exactly dinner table appropriate. There is one, I think, that's not too bad."

He set his fork down before wiping at his face with the napkin. "Okay, so, a boy is selling fish on a corner. To get his customers' attention, he is yelling, 'Dam fish for sale! Get your dam fish here!' A pastor hears this and asks, 'Why are you calling them 'dam fish.' The boy responds, 'Because I caught these fish at the local dam.'"

Nicole straightened in interest; she hadn't ever heard this one before. "The pastor buys a couple fish, takes them home to his wife, and asks her to cook the dam fish. The wife responds surprised, 'I didn't know it was acceptable for a preacher to speak that way.' He explains to her why they are dam fish. Later at the dinner table, he asks his son to pass the dam fish. He responds, 'That's the spirit, Dad! Now pass the fucking potatoes!'"

"That was a pretty good one!" She gasped after getting control of herself. "That one was actually great!"

Steve smiled again and they finished off their meal in a comfortable silence where they could soak up the ambient noises of surrounding conversation. Nicole felt relaxed, the good food, wine and atmosphere doing miracles to diffuse the tension that had been building up in her body since she had woken up in the parking garage. She was waiting for the other shoe to drop; since the fire she couldn't help but expect Steve to finally decide that he'd had enough and put in to have a new agent assigned to him. Or for her to face some sort of backlash from Coulson or Fury. But they'd both been incredibly kind about what had happened—which really shouldn't surprise her.

And yet, she was still waiting for… some sort of fall out.

Nicole was right in her assumption that their waiter would leave his number on their receipt, and the entire time that they were exiting the restaurant she couldn't help but wriggle her eyebrows suggestively at Steve. And then he shoved her lightly, which ended up being too much for balance that was already compromised by far more glasses of wine than she should have had.

"Hold on a second, Steve." She called, leaning against the door of her car and trying to pull her keys out. "I'm a little tipsy, you wanna drive? Can you drive?"

He nodded, prompting her to walk over to the passenger's side. "I can't actually get drunk; my body is at peak healing. I'm surprised that you can, from what Coulson said, it seems like your cells are the same way."

"Oh I can get drunk." The redhead smirked; Asgardians got drunk all the time, she was just surprised that white wine was able to affect her the way it did. "It usually takes more than this though."

Steve pulled the door open for her, waiting until she was buckled into her seat before shutting it and hurrying over to the other side. "Sure you're not just a light weight?"

"I would challenge you to a drinking contest, Rogers, but I feel like my liver would give out and die before you gave up." She growled, leaning her head back against the headrest. Nicole couldn't wait to get back to New York; she had grown quite fond of the city—and the fact that everything was within walking distance.

And while they were staying in a nice hotel with a nice bed, she missed her own room and more than that she missed Chauncey. Her mother and Jack had given her the dog after she'd graduated college, and at first Nicole had been worried that with her job as a field agent she wouldn't be able to take care of the animal. Luckily for her though, she wasn't typically sent on very long missions and when she was, she was able to leave him with a neighbor until she got back. Or, as in this instance, it was Phil that was keeping an eye on her dog and Nicole could already hear her SO complaining about the hair. And the redhead especially couldn't wait to get home and settled in her room… at least for a little bit before they left again to go visit her parents.

"Yeah, I think I would win." Steve chuckled, before letting out a slight groan and pressing his hand into his stomach. "I can't believe how good that food was."

"I love Capital Grille, so good!" Nicole agreed, rubbing her arm through her coat. "I'm gonna have a food baby."

"I ate more than you!" The blonde countered, twisting to look over his shoulder and out the rear windshield as he backed the SHIELD vehicle out. The original plan had been to take her Prius to DC—it got good mileage—but since they were leaving from the Bank, it had been simpler to nab one of the standard issue black cars.

"I'm smaller than you, Steve." She offered vaguely, brown eyes narrowed on the brightened screen of her phone. She had missed a call from Coulson, as well as receiving several texts with the insistence that she call immediately. "Hold on, I need to call Phil. Seems like something urgent is going on."

In response Steve turned the radio off, and the redhead smiled gratefully at her friend as her phone started dialing.

"Dugan." Coulson's words were somewhat clipped, not angry necessarily but pressed for time and definitely annoyed.

"Hey Phil." Her tones were apologetic nonetheless. "Sorry I missed your calls, we were out to dinner. What's up?"

"There's been a slight change of plans and we need you to stay in the city for a little while longer." Her handler answered.

Nicole received a startled look from Steve when she sat up suddenly. "Check out is tomorrow. Why could we possibly need to stay? Has something happened to the apartment?"

"No. Sorry, that came out more doom and gloom than necessary." Over the phone she heard Coulson let out a sigh, his words losing their edge. "It's actually, well, I don't know if you'll consider this better. Stark has a meeting in DC tomorrow, it's very high end and seeing as Potts will be there as well, and with the touchy subject matter, we offered a SHIELD escort."

She resisted the urge to curse. "Seeing as you're already in the city, and have worked with Stark before…"

"I hate you." She hissed half-heartedly, the palm of her hand swallowing the top of her face. "We were so close to freedom."

"I'd rather have you back up here too, Dugan. There was orange fur on my suit this morning. It's spreading." Coulson stressed. "But it might be a good chance for Captain Rogers to meet Howard's son."

"Because you know that is going to go swell." She cut a look over to Steve, already imagining that her friend would not end up being a huge fan of the in-your-face enigma that was Anthony Edward Stark. Nicole had met the man on several occasions over the course of her life, both professionally and through family functions and he was like an annoying big brother that she wanted to push off of a building.

"Video tape it?" Her SO offered thinly, though she imagined that she could make a quick buck off of the footage. "We're sending you an email with details, you can get the equipment that you'll need from the Triskelion."

"Oh, that's kind of you." Sarcasm dripped off of every word, and she could just imagine the half-smirk on Coulson's face. He was probably enjoying this, the bastard.

"If it helps, Ms. Potts will be there as well to run herd on him." Not that she was planning on admitting it, but that information was a little relieving.

"He has security, Phil. Why does he need SHIELD?" She complained, more than aware that she was sounding like a whiny five year old.

There was a pause on the other end, the slightest rustling of papers. Nicole could picture Coulson sitting at his desk going through paperwork as they talked. She wondered if he had his Captain America mug next to his lamp, filled with coffee. "The meetings are about SHIELD sensitive matters, regarding project PEGASUS as well as what happened in Malibu this summer."

"Ah." And with SHIELD related matters, they would want someone there to keep an eye out for SHIELD interests. Who better than one of their best diplomats? "Okay. I'll look through the files as soon as we get back."

"Good to hear. And I'm sorry about this, but Fury insisted on you." At least Phil did sound genuinely apologetic. Didn't stop her from wanting to pout though. "Get a good night's rest, you have an early start tomorrow."

Nicole could feel Steve's questioning gaze when she hung up her phone, tossing it onto the dashboard with a disgusted noise. She knew she would have to explain the situation to him, would probably do it when they got back to the hotel and she could access the email that had been sent to her. Right now however, there was only one thing really on her mind.

Shit.