Clint perched on the roof of the Triskelion, watching the small whitecaps on Potomac far below. It was really too windy to be outside at this height, especially without a safety line, but that was one of the reasons he liked it up here on days like this. No one bothered him. He had plenty of places to go when he needed time alone, places no one but Tasha would come to find him; even she stayed off the roof. Although she teased about him not having any thoughts to be alone with, he appreciated her understanding, her awkward laughter when she made the lame joke. She knew. People like them needed safe spots – not safehouses (though those were often necessary, as well), but places to hide inside their heads for a few minutes. Or hours.

This mini-sabbatical was pushing ninety minutes already. No wonder he felt cold.

Then again, he had been chilled since seeing the helicarriers, regardless of the attitude of superiority he'd been putting on as a result of being the one to discover them. He felt like a contemporary Columbus, being the first to find something tons of people knew about already; they just didn't count because they weren't the ones writing the history books. Or they wouldn't be, if Clint had anything to say about it.

He glanced down at the choppy river and imagined it opening up to disgorge the three massive ships, drawing the attention of the entire city. There would be news vans and choppers, tourists and residents pointing their cameras and cell phones upwards, traffic at a standstill from awe and accidents – all eyes on the sky. It would make a hell of a statement, an atomic detonation with none of the casualties. Or…why did the damn things even exist if not to cause casualties? He sighed, the sound of his frustration swept away by the whipping gusts.

In spite of the buffeting winds, Clint heard the stairwell door open somewhere behind him. The person who had come up hesitated, unsure either of allowing the door to close or approaching him. Not Tasha, then. She didn't hesitate. He stared down harder at the water, trying to see the outline of the carriers, the hangars. The future.

"Doesn't seem safe up here."

"Well, we know it's not safe down there, so what does that leave?"

Hill leaned into his field of vision. "Long way down."

"Uh huh. How'd you find me?"

"I know you prefer looking down at the world from up high, so…" She gave up trying to brush her hair out of her eyes. "And I may have asked Romanoff for a hint."

"She leave with Rogers yet?"

"Tomorrow. She's shoring things up with a contact on the ground."

"KGB?"

"Doubt it, but she wouldn't say."

"Never does."

There was a long pause as they both stood at the edge, staring into the deep water below. Hill finally said, "Rogers will take care of her."

"I know."

"It bugs you."

"She can take care of herself, but Rogers is a good insurance policy."

"Not as good as you?"

"Never said that." He was fairly certain his words were lost on the wind. Besides, Hill was right. Tasha would be safer with him covering her back. He didn't have the baggage Rogers did, wouldn't be drawn in too easily to protect her when she was capable of defending herself. She always hated it when Clint jumped into a fight she thought she was winning, and she had never been in a fight she didn't feel she could win. Rogers, though…he could make a fool of himself in the name of 'protecting' her and she would think it was endearing or romantic or…

Hill's hand on his biceps reminded him that he had to watch his balance carefully up here. Her fingers were cold on his even colder skin. "We should go back inside."

"That an order?" he asked sarcastically, more to be difficult for the sake of it than anything.

"Call it professional concern, but you can stay out here as long as you want, provided you don't have any intention of doing a pike into the Potomac."

He considered for a moment as Hill made her way across the gravel to the door. He opened it for her just before she realized it locked from the outside if you didn't push the lever down and in just right. "You have one of those single serving coffee makers in your office, right?"

"Only if you don't tell Isaacs from STRIKE…"

"Need me to break some legs for you?"

"I'll answer that in another week. In the meantime, you can have some of my Colombian dark roast. We can discuss your upcoming deployment in Iran."

"We seriously don't have anybody else to send on this one? I'm looking at months away."

"You got something keeping you here?"

He looked at her as she grasped the handle of the hallway door. "No."

"Then think of how nice and warm it will be in Zahedan."

"Just put some hot coffee in me, Hill, and we'll get to the mission."

She frowned, but he felt like he detected a hint of flirtatious impatience in her expression. Maybe she was just genuinely annoyed by his puppy-dog eyes. Either way, he wasn't going to be drinking cafeteria coffee during his briefing.

"Where's Barton tonight?"

Natasha sipped her wine and glanced over her shoulder before answering Steve's question, "He's prepping for a long-termer in Iran. Worried about spending extended time alone with me?"

"Not at all. Just surprised he's not here to spoil the mood."

"He knows when to step back." She had to admit, it was a nice restaurant. Quiet. Dark. She took another sip of wine and had barely set her glass down when the waiter appeared to refill it. When the man had stepped back into the shadows, she leveled her gaze at Steve, looking delicious in his dark suit, shirt and tie. She had barely let him out the door this evening, even after selecting his ensemble for the night. "Have I told you that you look amazing?"

"Only four times, which is still three fewer than I've told you how beautiful you look tonight."

"I'll look less attractive shoving steak into my mouth, I'm sure."

His hand slipped across the table to cover hers. "I'm glad we're here. No cameras, no pressure. Just us."

"When have we had to worry about pictures since our little dinner with Stark and Pepper?"

"Sam mentioned my cute redhead when I stopped by the VA yesterday. Luckily, he was able to show me the Facebook photos those girls took at Five Guys before I threw him through a wall."

She smiled. In spite of his repeated complaints about the Five Guys pictures, Steve had been full of stories about the vets he had met, the stories they had shared, the sense of camaraderie since his visit to the hospital. "And when are we going to have a few beers with Sam?"

"I may have mentioned that I'm unavailable for the next few weeks, so…"

"Right." Steve wasn't meant for the undercover life. He was supposed to be in the spotlight, encouraging patriotic young men and women to enlist in the service of their choice. It was a strange concept for her, having been raised with no choice but state service. "And you're sure he's kosher?"

"Sure as I can be."

Although she knew this meant the assessment of Steve's gut, she was willing to accept it. For now. "Okay."

"That's it?"

"Well, we don't know how long we're going to be gone. Makes sense to give him the long estimate."

"Okay. I wasn't sure if I'd said too much."

"You…" She interlaced her fingers with his. He didn't actually know enough about the details of the mission to compromise them, provided they hadn't already been compromised by Fury or SHIELD as of their official briefing this afternoon. "You have the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen. Have I ever told you that?"

"Yes." He smiled and blushed. "I'm pretty sure you were trying to distract me every time, but, hey, if it works…"

"Even if I did have an ulterior motive, I was never lying."

"Nat, you know I…"

"Shh." She could hold off on the declarations of love until they got home. No matter how much he meant it, it always seemed to mean less when other people could hear. "I think our dinner is coming."

"Nat…"

Their hands tightened for a moment before the waiter bowed over the table with their perfectly cooked steaks. She allowed her hand to linger for a moment before withdrawing to cut into her meat. A few minutes later, she murmured, "You're doing so much better with the Internet if that's how you found this place."

"Nah…Stark…" She watched as Steve devoured his steak unselfconsciously, turning his attention to her own half-finished portion. "You gonna finish that?"

"You and steak really do make the cutest couple."

"Yeah, but steak disappears when I eat it. Be weird if it squirmed and moaned." He winked and stuffed a large piece into his mouth.

"Did you just make a sexual innuendo in public?" she stage-whispered.

He nodded and grinned, still chewing.

"Save the smug satisfaction when you have to follow through on that later."

They shared a cappuccino crème brulee before heading home for their last night in their own apartment. Tomorrow promised less comfortable Russian accommodations. There was a time she wouldn't have minded any room in her native country, nor would she have had to be so careful about arranging it. Hell, a few years ago she could have shown up at any number of acquaintances' apartments and gotten a nights' respite, no questions asked. Now she had only her foreign contacts. At least they were reliable.

The particular email confirmation she had been awaiting came from one of those sources, one she would find almost impossible to be connected to Hydra. She closed her laptop with a sigh. "Bad news?"

She turned to see Steve standing in the hall in just his suit pants and belt. "Just thinking."

"About anything in particular?"

"Mmm, my brain went mushy when I turned and saw you there, half-naked."

"Then why don't we take this opportunity to enjoy ourselves before things get serious tomorrow?"

She stood, stretching her back as she did so. "Why are you still wearing pants, then?"