A/N: This one was fun! I hope y'all enjoy it as much as I did writing it. Thanks for all the reviews! They make me happy.

Day 5: On a Date

She stumbled out of his bedroom with sleepy eyes and mussed hair, and Steve felt his heart clench. There was something about her barefoot in his kitchen that made him firmly aware that the Maria Hill outside of SHIELD was an entirely different creature. She blearily located the tea pot, and he concealed a smile as she furiously stared at it, willing it to boil. Hermes softly padded into the room, sliding down on his front paws in a doggy stretch before lapping water from the bowl on the floor. When he finished, he gave them each a longing look before flopping down on his side.

"How are you feeling this morning?" Steve asked.

She grunted at him and he bit back another smile. She tossed the used teabag in the sink and took a long sip, the mug clenched between both of her hands. After a moment, she sank down in the chair beside him.

"Better?" he asked with a smirk.

Her response was a raised middle finger as she took another sip.

"It's too damn early for conversation, Rogers," she muttered.

"And here I thought you'd be a morning person," he added, genuinely surprised.

"You spend a lot of time thinking about me?" she questioned with a raised eyebrow.

He ducked his head, a faint red flush tipping his ears. She snorted.

"I'm not a morning person unless I have to be. That's why I always take the late shifts," she offered.

"You still haven't answered my first question," he said with a knowing look.

She glared.

"Sore, but bearable," she replied as she put the empty cup in the sink.

He rolled his eyes at her reply. She stretched, and he tried not to stare at the section of skin exposed at her midsection. She winked at him, and disappeared down the hallway. She emerged fresh faced with damp hair pulled on top of her head about twenty minutes later, looking like she should be headed off to class at NYU.

"Is that my sweatshirt?" he asked.

"Yup," she replied with a grin.

The garment hung to mid-thigh and she had pushed the sleeves up so they wouldn't hang off her wrists. She stuffed her wallet and keys into the front pocket, and whistled. Hermes trotted up to her, tongue lolling.

"Do you need anything while I'm out?" she asked. "It may be awhile. I've got to get the townhouse situated."

He folded the newspaper in front of him, and smiled. He pushed down the pang of domesticity her actions sent through him at the possibility of a future with her.

"Not that I can think of," he said.

She nodded and left, Hermes trailing behind her. Rubbing his face with his hand, Steve groaned. Heading towards the bedroom, he tried to ignore the faint whiff of her perfume and the wet towel hanging on the doorknob. He reached for a clean pair of jeans. and a t-shirt.

"How's your girl?" Stark asked when Steve wandered into the common room.

"She left early to get things straightened up at the house."

Stark sighed a heavy sigh.

"You have no game, Rogers."

Steve ignored him and settled into an armchair near the window with his sketchbook. Stark rolled his eyes and left, muttering unintelligibly under his breath. An hour passed before Barton leisurely strolled into the room. Steve eyed him warily. A bored Barton was a dangerous Barton. The man in question balanced on the arm of the sofa with a smirk.

"You and Maria should join us for dinner tonight," he said.

Steve looked up.

"Us?" he questioned.

"Me and Nat. Saturdays are Trivia Night at The Cantina."

Steve frowned, unsure if he should make plans without her.

"Hill loves cheese dip," Barton added.

"Let me check," he replied, and Barton nodded.

He pulled out his phone.

"Barton wants us to join him and Nat at The Cantina tonight. Something about trivia night?"

His phone beeped not even a minute later.

"Hell yeah."

Steve grinned, and looked up to see Barton's knowing gaze.

"We're in," he said ignoring the archer's smirk.

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The most important thing Steve Rogers learned about Maria Hill at dinner was to never touch her food if he wanted to keep his hand- especially if cheese dip was involved.

The Cantina was a quaint little place off the beaten-path with outdoor lights strung across the patio, and mariachi music streaming from the speakers. The late summer air was just beginning to chill, but it still was a beautiful night. Natasha and Clint left a few minutes before them to get a table. Apparently Romanov was very specific in her seating location for Trivia Night. Maria directed him to the restaurant, only mentioning it was a place she and Romanov had discovered years ago on accident. He could easily see why she loved it. The anonymity was refreshing, and the beer was cheap.

He had only thought she was joking when she ordered two cheese dips, but was fondly amused when she demolished the first bowl. It was nice to see her so relaxed, Steve mused. They lapsed into conversation while Barton signed them up for Trivia and Natasha went to the bathroom (aka- check the perimeter).

"I'm going to regret this when I have to run 5 extra miles tomorrow morning," she said with a smile. "But it's too damn good!"

"Do you run every morning?" he asked.

"If work allows," she replied. "I like seeing the city wake up."

"You run around New York?" he asked, slightly surprised.

"It just reminds me why I do what I do," she commented, taking another sip of her beer. "What?"

He smiled.

"You're different than I expected."

She rolled her eyes.

"I never took you for one to listen to the rumor mill," she replied lightly.

He could sense the danger in her tone, and her eyes watched him, calculating. His eyes widened, and he started to back pedal.

"That's not...I meant...You-"

She stopped him with a chuckle.

"As much as I'm enjoying watching you try and dig your way out of this one, it's fine, Steve."

"But it's not," he said almost angrily.

She raised an eyebrow, meeting his gaze, almost daring him to continue. He inhaled slowly, his eyes locked on hers.

"You're so much more than that, Maria."

"Don't put me on a goddamn pedestal, Rogers," she said with a bitter expression.

He sighed, frustrated, but her expression told him to drop the subject. The conversation stagnated, and he wasn't sure what to say next. Was there a protocol for what to do after arguing with a girl on a date? She crinkled her nose in distaste.

"Look Rogers, I'm not good at this. I don't do personal. My default is bitchy and aggressive, and Fury pays me to argue with him on a regular basis. So if you're looking for sweet and cuddly, that's not going to be me."

He reached out and grabbed her hand. That shut her up quickly, and she stared at him with an unreadable expression.

"Can we just start over and forget that I am a dunderheaded idiot?"

Her lips quirked up in a smile.

"You're a sadist." she stated. "And we have got to work on your vocabulary."

Barton chose that moment to return to the table, eyeing the two of them with interest. Maria gave him a sickeningly sweet smile that clearly had another meaning, and he left it alone. The chip basket was refilled and Natasha came back with a pitcher of Margaritas and two straws. Steve raised an eyebrow himself when she set it in front of Maria and took the seat beside her.

"I know you haven't bothered to take any pain medication," the assassin stated, while Maria just made a face.

It turned out Natasha and Maria were vicious at the game. Steve was content to let the three of them handle it while the other groups eyed them fearfully. Natasha was a surprising wealth of celebrity information while Maria closed down the music category. It was no surprised they trounced the others when it came to geography and politics. Steve was quite pleased with himself when he snagged a few history questions. He briefly wondered if it was cheating since he had witnessed those events first hand.

The game wrapped up and a prize pitcher of beer appeared in front of them which was good since the two women had drained the margaritas. (To be honest, Natasha had consumed a majority of the cocktail.) Maria was definitely feeling the buzz of alcohol, her eyes shinning. Steve noted she hadn't winced all night, but whether that was the alcohol or her impressive pain tolerance was anyone's guess. The bill was paid (Clint grabbed the check), and it was understood Steve and Maria would get it next night out. Clint waved goodbye, and Natasha just raised an eyebrow as the assassins headed out the door.

"God, I needed that," Maria said with a sigh as Steve offered her his hand to help her out of the booth.

She frowned slightly, but accepted the offer reluctantly.

A shrill ring interrupted them, and she released his hand with a groan. Digging through her bag, she located her phone with a scowl.

"Hill."

Steve watched as she shifted to business mode, and he took that opportunity to study her. She was gorgeous in command. Her scowl deepened, and her eyes flashed as she barked at the person on the other end of the phone. She hung up with a sigh, and a sympathetic smile.

"I have to go in," she said as she stood. "Fraiser's fucked up one of the operations in Singapore, and he has the diplomacy of a turd."

He laughed loudly at her description, and her expression lightened. He escorted her to the car he had borrowed from Stark. She paused at the door to the passenger side, and caught his wrist.

"I won't apologize for my job," she said seriously.

"I don't expect you to," he replied, completely sincere.

This time, she closed the gap between them.