Romanoff tilted her head, studying her reflection critically. For tonight, she had chosen a lavender off-the-shoulder dress that was elegant without being overexposed. The bodice hugged her form and ended in a drop-waist over her hips and the dress erupted in ruffles when it reached her thighs, creating the perfect camouflage for her thigh holster. Her hair was down and curled in loose waves, and pearl studs shimmered at her earlobes.

Romanoff pressed her lips together, distributing her light pink lipstick more evenly. Satisfied with her appearance, she moved out of her bathroom to don the off-white sandals that completed her outfit. Then she headed down to the lobby to meet Barton and Rapp.

Rapp was already in the lobby when she got there, pacing back and forth and glancing at his watch. He looked up as she approached him and nodded a greeting. "Nice dress."

"Nice tux," she returned, resting one hand on her hip. She swivelled her head around, feeling her curls graze her bare shoulder "Where's Barton?"

"On his way," Rapp said.

Romanoff nodded, dropping her eyes to the floor.

After a moment, Rapp said, "You know, if our covers are engaged, shouldn't we practice making it look convincing?"

Romanoff lifted her head and smiled sweetly, taking a step closer. "What did you have in mind?" she teased, already getting into character as she adjusted his bowtie.

Rapp clasped her waist and tilted his head, a false smile sliding across his face. "Well, Nicole," he began.

"Naomi," Romanoff corrected, still beaming at him.

"Right." Rapp squeezed his eyes shut, committing the name to memory. "Naomi. So. Even if we're talking about the mission, Naomi, we both have to pretend I'm sweet-talking you."

"Yes, I see." Romanoff spread her hands on his shoulders, morphing her features into a look of adoration. Suddenly she was glad for all the time they had been spending together. Without it, this would've felt (and probably looked) awkward. As it was, she already felt at ease around Rapp.

"So even if I'm saying 'Tarif's behind you, get ready to attack," Rapp went on, pulling her closer. "Just pretend I'm discussing our wedding plans."

Romanoff tipped her head on its side, feigning delight. "Oh, Miles, what a perfect idea!"

Rapp smiled. "I probably don't have to tell you any of this," he admitted, finally stepping back from her. "You seem to know what you're doing."

Romanoff linked her hands behind her back. "It's nothing I haven't done before. Barton and I have used the engaged cover more times than I can count."

"Hm." Rapp nodded. His eyes fastened on something over her shoulder. "Speak of the devil."

Romanoff spun around, and there was Barton, frozen mid-stride some thirty feet away with his eyes locked onto her, his face inscrutable.

Romanoff frowned, puzzled by his expression, and tilted her head at him. What?

Barton blinked, then started forward like someone had pressed the Play button, releasing her from his intense gaze.

She'd felt it again, just for a second, that nameless something that was hanging between them. She searched for it again in Barton's face as he came to a stop beside them, but he was expressionless. She couldn't get a read on him like she usually could, and it frustrated her.

"All set?" Barton asked, addressing his question to Rapp.

"Yep. You?"

"Good to go," he replied, adjusting the duffel bag that was slung over his shoulder.

"Then let's go," Rapp said.

The black, SHIELD-issue vehicle was parked out front. Romanoff automatically moved to the passenger side door, as Barton typically drove on missions. She paused with her fingers on the handle when Rapp headed around to the driver's seat. She glanced at Barton, but he was calmly sliding into the backseat, so she mentally shrugged and got into the car.

Romanoff pulled her hair over one shoulder to preserve her smooth waves as Rapp stated the engine. The shuffling noises of Barton situating his gear sounded from the backseat as the car pulled away from Headquarters.

"So, Romanoff," Rapp spoke up as their speed climbed. "Here's a question for you."

Romanoff turned her head, eyeing him expectantly.

Rapp alternated his gaze between her and the road. "If I get into a life-or-death fight with Tarif… would I be allowed to sucker punch him?"

Romanoff laughed, shaking her head in exasperation. "You just cannot let that go, can you?"

"It's a fair question!" Rapp said with mock seriousness. "If it's really as egregious a crime as you make it out to be, maybe I shouldn't even use it against my worst enemy."

Romanoff rolled her eyes to the ceiling and shook her head again, a smile tugging at her lips. "Okay, fine. Only if he is clearly winning and he has you in a sleeper hold you can't get out of should you resort to cheating."

Rapp shot her a disgruntled look. "That is not what happened."

"Um, yes, that's exactly what happened," Romanoff informed him. She tried to catch Barton's eye in the mirror, looking for support, but he was scowling down at his lap.

"I stand by my former statement," Rapp said. "You were not winning, because you did not have me in a sleeper hold I couldn't get out of. I could've slipped it another way, I just chose the way you apparently thought was cheating."

Romanoff squinted at him in the mirror. "Another way? Like what?"

"Okay, like… You know that joint-lock I had you in that you flipped out of? That wasn't that different from the sleeper hold, I could've gotten out that way."

Romanoff turned to him, eyebrows raised in amused disbelief. "Really? You think you could've done that?"

"Yeah, of course!"

Romanoff smirked and focused her gaze forward again. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."

Rapp sighed heavily and shook his head.

Barton still hadn't said a word, Romanoff realized, twisting her mouth to one side. She glanced at him in the rearview mirror and again got the feeling he'd just been looking at her. She frowned at his reflection, then dropped her eyes to her lap. This is going to be a long drive.