** ROSE POV **

It wasn't that I was immodest around Dick, but I could tell how incredibly mortified he already was. There seemed little need to make him feel worse by acting shocked or embarrassed. After all, he really couldn't see anything, even if the situation was suggestive. Lewis Nixon would certainly have enjoyed it.

Still, my heart pounded as he pretended that his eyes weren't wandering and I pretended not to notice. I left him in the bathroom to shave, closing my bedroom door behind me and leaning against it for a moment to regain my composure. I could still see the way he'd been looking at me, and it made my stomach flutter.

It occurred to me that I really needed to get this crush under control. After all, nothing could happen. No matter how kind he was to me, Dick was still my superior officer. Although I didn't feel the age difference between us was all that great, I was sure that, to him, I must seem as some baby sister that he'd been given charge over. Still, there had been something in his gaze a moment ago that seemed to contradict the notion, and I just couldn't bring myself to put it out of my mind altogether. The sound of running water in the bathroom brought me back to the present, even as I pictured him staring intently into the mirror as he drew the blade over his jaw. The words to some silly love song came floating into my head, and I began to hum along as I moved to get dressed.

A half hour later, prompt as always, Dick was waiting for me. I thought at first that he might feel awkward. Instead, he smiled and held out his arm for me to take.

"Where to first? Breakfast at the Eiffel Tower?" he asked, and that is how we found ourselves, some twenty minutes later, seated at a sidewalk cafe underneath the landmark as all of Paris began to wake up and come to life around us.

We enjoyed a leisurely breakfast filled with conversation and people-watching. For the first time in a long while, Dick's eyes didn't cloud over every time a young man passed us, as though he were still seeing the German soldier's face. He did, however, blush when I pointed out a group of giggling Parisian girls openly ogling him. We stood to begin our exploration and it looked for a moment that the group of admirers might approach us. They quickly changed course though when, to all of our surprise, he reached out and took my hand as we made our way toward one of the many museums.

"They're gone now," I teased. "Not that I mind being your bodyguard. I think you could've taken them though. They weren't very big."

"Very funny. Actually, I was saving you the trouble of having to be jealous when beautiful French women tried to steal me away," he dead-panned, not removing his hand from mine.

I looked up at him, mouth dropped open in mock-protest, until he finally looked down at me and smirked.

"Captain Nixon is starting to rub off on you."

"And that's a bad thing?"

"No, not necessarily. He does have his good qualities," I countered, shrugging. "And he is pretty attractive."

His head snapped down, eyes narrowing, studying my face to see if I was being serious or not. I let him wonder for a second before leaning into his side and laughing. His body visibly relaxed and he tugged at my hand.

"Cute. I'm sure he will be thrilled to hear you think so."

"Oh, I'm sure he will."

** DICK POV **

I didn't really mean to show my jealousy when she mentioned Nix being attractive, just like I hadn't really intended to take her hand as we left the café. She had assumed that it was because of the women. I didn't contradict her although I knew that hadn't been the only reason. The truth was that I took her hand without any thought or reasoning whatsoever. It had simply felt like the natural thing to do. I took her hand as though I was walking the streets with my girlfriend, not even fully aware of what I had done until she called my attention to it.

Once she did, I noticed that neither of us made a move to let go. We simply carried on with our teasing conversation, her leaning in to nudge me as she caught my discomfort at her compliment of Lew. We could have been any couple out for a walk on the streets of any city. The Nixon-devil on my shoulder was screaming at me again, repeating my thought over and over again. We could be a couple. I stole a glance at her as we walked up the steps of the Louvre.

"Stop worrying and look at her. You're in Paris," the little Nixon-devil whispered. "No one knows you. No one can see you touching her. Stop thinking so much and enjoy the moment. It might be the only one you get."

As we made our way through the museum, I found myself watching her more than the artwork. She spoke animatedly about colors and light and painting styles, and I found myself just listening to her. She paused suddenly, gasping in obvious admiration, and I looked up to see that we were now standing in front of the Mona Lisa.

She was awestruck by the painting. I was mesmerized by her passionate reaction. She drew a deep breath and held it for a moment. Then she released a wistful sigh. Her eyes twinkled, and her grip on my hand tightened unconsciously as we stood before one of the most famous pieces in the world.

"Isn't she beautiful?" she asked in a whisper, and my little Nixon-devil and I answered at the same time, although I don't think either of us were talking about the painting.

"Yes. Yes, she is."