A/N: Dialogue in square brackets is spoken in Russian.
When Steve awoke, he wasn't at all surprised to see Natasha leaning over him.
"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty." Even though the room was completely dark, Steve could hear Natasha smiling.
"Natasha, I am not going to miss this."
"I'm sure you've had stranger bedfellows."
"You'd actually be surprised," Steve said, sitting up. He felt better this morning. "You ready to call Hill?"
"Sure, just better pray she hasn't bailed out on us."
"You think she would?"
"Nope," Natasha said, also sitting up. "I mean, maybe, but it's unlikely. We're in trouble if she has, but let's call first. Suit up, Cap. We've got a big day ahead."
"Suit up, I - Nat…"
"Get dressed, Steve," Natasha said gently as she reached down to the floor for her socks and trousers to get dressed in the warmth of the bed. "You're playing chef while I call Hill."
...
Natasha and Steve both searched the flat before they left. Nothing was to be left behind, and nothing was. A cleaner came to freshen the flat every six months, and Natasha had no intention of using it again in that time. Natasha carried the bags down the stairs, while Steve supported Bucky. Outside, fresh snow crunched underfoot, and the moon gave them all the light they needed to load up the car. Bucky sat shot-gun, beside Natasha, and Steve climbed in the backseat, grateful for the seat warmers, which Natasha turned on straight away.
"Ok boys," she said, as they turned out of the town, "It's gunna be a bit of a drive. If it stays clear and the roads are in fair condition, we should make it in about five hours. We can have a toilet break for the weak-of-bladder in about an hour, but then you're just going to have to hold on."
Steve looked at the stars. The eastern sky was beginning to grow lighter. Today they would break into a top-security, secret, off-shore US prison. Today they would rescue their friends. Natasha said she had a lawyer friend she could call once they got to Wakanda. Steve looked at the side of Natasha's head. She'd pulled off her beanie, and her hair was sitting askew. He didn't know she had other friends, but then again, there was a lot about Natasha that he guessed he didn't know, and it was probably best not to ask.
After the toilet stop, Steve nodded off. The sky was grey, and Natasha sat her sunglasses on her lap. The white landscape would be blinding once the sun rose about the horizon. At least it wasn't snowing.
"Do you think we'd get any radio reception out here?" Bucky asked.
"Unlikely," Natasha said, "I'm afraid this is just a standard Land Rover with snow tires and chains. No other retro-fitting."
"Can I try?" Bucky asked.
"Nothing to lose," Natasha said. Bucky leant over to fiddle with the touch-screen controls until a crackly signal was found.
"Radio Siberia?"
"Sounds like it," Natasha said. The sun peeped up over a hill and Natasha put on her sunglasses.
"Huh," Bucky said, leaning back into his seat. "Don't suppose you've got any more cool shades?"
"Cool shades?" Natasha chuckled, "In the clothing bag. You might have to wake Princess Aurora back there to get him to get them out for you."
"The light'll wake him soon enough."
"Up to you," Natasha said. For a while they drove in silence, with the eclectic mix of songs from Radio Siberia softly filling the car.
...
They made it to the airport in good time. The sun shone over the white landscape and the sky was perfectly clear, though the wind was fierce, and Natasha could feel it beating against the car as she'd navigated the slippery roads.
"Everyone try and look normal," Natasha said, as she brought the car to a stop and killed the engine. The dashboard had been telling her it was -10 degrees, which was cold by any standard. The carpark was close to empty.
"As opposed to…?" Bucky said. He'd been enjoying watching the scenery, with Radio Siberia filling the silence. Music, especially popular music, was seldom heard in the Red Room or Winter Soldier program. It made Bucky feel like himself. He'd always liked dancing. He wondered if Natasha felt the same.
Natasha leant over and unclicked Bucky's seatbelt. "Steve, grab the bags. Buck, you gotta get out of the car yourself, then you can take my arm."
"And look normal," Steve teased, pulling his beanie on and flipping his coat-hood up over the top.
"You got it," Natasha said, opening her door and sliding out. "Oh, and Steve. Just... stay quiet for a bit ok? No English."
"Right, ok," Steve said, as a bundle of coats, presumably with a man inside, was coming towards them. Natasha took Bucky by the arm, and Steve grabbed the bags from the trunk.
"[Anna Nikolova?]" the man asked.
"[Good afternoon,]" Natasha replied.
"[Your plane is waiting, Colonel. I need to inspect your license.]"
Natasha pulled the license out from her pocket and showed it to the man, who nodded without reading it or checking if underneath her beanie, coat, scarf and sunglasses, she looked anything like the woman in the picture.
"[And a Captain Grigory Nikolov,]"
"[My brother, with the bags,]" Natasha said, as Steve appeared behind them. The man nodded and ticked something off with a pencil on his clipboard.
"[And Mr Sergei Alexovich,]" the man said, looking at Bucky.
"[My… very best friend, if you will,]" Natasha said, patting Bucky's arm.
Again the man just nodded, and made a tick on his board. "[This way, Colonel.]"
They followed the man a short distance across the tarmac and into an open hanger. Natasha looked at Steve, wishing he'd look a little less stunned at the Quinjet which sat inside.
"[We're ready when you are, Colonel,]" the man said.
"[Thank-you, comrade,]" Natasha replied. "[You are taking care of our hire car?]"
"[Yes.]"
"[You'll need these then,]" Natasha said, handing the man the keys.
The man pocketed the keys and shuffled back to his tower.
"Colonel?" Bucky asked as Natasha opened the doors.
"I needed him to take me seriously," Natasha said, helping Bucky up into the Quinjet.
"Show me that ID," Bucky said, standing awkwardly inside.
Natasha reached into her coat and again produced the ID card, handing it to Bucky.
"Russian Air Force. Colonel Anna Nikolova."
"What?" Steve asked, dumping the bags behind the seating. Natasha secured the door, then took the pilot's seat.
"Nat outranks you," Bucky smiled.
"I never doubted it," Steve said.
"Cap's co-pilot," Natasha said, "Sorry Buck, but I need someone who can fly this thing."
"It's ok," Bucky said, shuffling into the seat behind the co-pilot's, "I got to ride shot-gun in the car."
Steve helped Bucky strap in, then slid into the co-pilot chair. "How did this get to Siberia?" Steve asked as Natasha brought the Quinjet to life.
"There are some mysteries - "
"Natasha, this is an official SHIELD Quinjet."
"Hill did it. She has a lot of people who owe her a lot of favours."
"What do you owe her?"
"Ballet tickets."
Steve raised an eyebrow. Natasha didn't flinch as she brought the Quinjet to life.
"[Yeltsovka ground, Quinjet, ready to taxi, IFR, with sierra.]"
"[Quinjet turn onto taxiway. Winds two eight zero and blowing at 25 knots.]"
"[Copy that.]" Natasha taxied the Quinjet out onto the runway.
"Shouldn't you be speaking in English?" Steve asked.
"This isn't an International airport," Natasha said, "Out here it's Russian or nothing."
"Huh," said Steve. "Are - are we going to have any ATC contact?"
"Not until we're eight hours out from Wakanda."
"Oh. Ok. When will that be?"
"Five or so hours after our quick stop in the middle of the Pacific."
"Fair enough," said Steve.
"Well, good afternoon gentlemen, this is your Captain speaking. First I'd like to welcome everyone on this conveniently acquired SHIELD Quinjet. We are currently preparing for take-off. The weather looks interesting to say the least, though we are clear enough for take-off. There is no cabin crew, and if you want something to eat, figure out which one of those is the food bag. I'll talk to you again before we reach our destination. Until then, sit back, relax and enjoy the rest of the flight."
Steve laughed, and Bucky managed to smile. "How many commercial flights have you taken?" Steve asked.
"Oh, Rogers," Natasha said as the comms buzzed again from Ground Control, "Platinum frequent flyer doesn't even begin to cut it."