So sorry that this chapter is late, and also kind of short. The next couple of chapters will actually be kind of short, which ideally means it shouldn't take me too long to write them? Maybe? I was playing the Trespasser DLC for Dragon Age, so now that I've done that I should hopefully be able to get my life together again. Also, I started working on a soulmate AU that nobody needs because I'm trash. And I've been working on the sequels so there's that…

On that note, I'm looking for a beta reader, and if anyone is interested, or knows anyone that's interested let me know.

Not a whole lot to say about this chapter, but you have that sometimes.

Big thank you to everyone who's favorited/followed/reviewed this story, you guys are amazing!

Adara.

Chapter Twenty Three:

October 25, 2011, SHIELD Base: The Bank, Location: New York

"I thought we were getting a mission." Nicole looked up at that, fingers reaching up to scratch at the side of her nose.

Steve was leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest and a familiar pouting look on his face that she would never think to bring up to him. "We will get a mission."

She finished tightening her knee brace, pushing to her feet and ignoring the slight twinge in her leg muscles. "We just have to get whipped into shape first."

"You mean you have to get whipped back into shape. You've gotten a little soft around the edges Dugan." He grinned, pushing off of the wall. "How does your leg feel?"

"Fine." She answered, self-consciously patting her mid-section. She had to admit, three weeks of R&R had dulled the edge a little bit. "Same as it felt yesterday, and the day before that. Super healing, remember?"

After she'd gotten back to the apartment—and eaten just about an entire pan of mac and cheese in one sitting—Nicole had slept for about nineteen hours to replenish her energy. When she'd woken up her mouth had been dry and her hair had been greasy, but the bruising was gone from her face and the groove on her arm had healed into an angry pink scar. At the time Nicole had just been grateful that she didn't need the crutches anymore… and if she were honest with herself it was nice being doted upon by a worried housemate.

"I remember. Are you ready?" It was the first time she'd been back in the training facilities of the Bank since before her parent's anniversary and Nicole had to admit that she was looking forward to burning off a little steam.

"Yep, I'm ready Freddy." She had promised Steve that she would show him her powers. "Hold onto your pants!"

"I'm waiting to be awed." The blond snorted, quirking an eyebrow at her.

Nicole waved a hand at her friend, the other reaching up to pull her long hair out of the bun that it'd been wrangled into. She typically wasn't one who enjoyed very long hair; it was impractical in her line of work and she'd lost count of all the times that it'd been pulled on or tugged, or used against her. So the first thing that she decided to do was to show Steve how she could change her hair.

"I am a special snowflake that has very mild morphologic features." She began. "I can change my hair color, texture, and length with a passing whim. For example, shorter hair."

The sensation was sort of like oil dripping down her scalp, though it didn't last long. And by the time it was finished Nicole was sporting a sleek bob, the longest strands just barely brushing her shoulders. The color was the same as well, she changed the style much more often than the actual color of her hair. It was actually kind of hilarious to see the goggle-eyed expression on Steve's face as her hair changed length and the curls ironed out completely straight.

"Ta-da!" She did a spin, enjoying the sensation of the much shorter strands. "It's very helpful when you need to disappear in a crowd. Because you know, being a giant makes you stand out."

"There's nothing wrong with being tall." He offered instinctively, reaching out a curious hand. It hovered for a second until Nicole inclined her head slightly. "It… feels real."

She would be offended if she didn't understand exactly what he'd meant. "It is real, it's my hair just… different."

Steve continued to touch her hair, running his fingers through it in a manner that was making it very hard for Nicole to focus. She was a weak, weak, woman when it came to having her hair played with. Platonically, or not, it didn't matter; the sensation was soothing and relaxing and it was probably one of her favorite things in the world. Her friend might not have realized it, but she was literally two seconds away from purring like a housecat.

Steve picked that moment in time to lower his hand, face flushed slightly with color at the disappointed sigh from the redhead. "Anyway, that's like a weird side effect type thing that I have no explanation for but is surprisingly useful. You know what else is surprisingly useful though? Being able to set shit on fire."

With a wave of her hand, Nicole directed Steve to a set of double doors at the end of the training center. "We've got to do this in a specific SHIELD accredited room. It's fireproof with programmable training modules. Not super big, but it's designed for testing out prototype weaponry and equipment. There's a system that can be programmed with different challenge levels, it's good for simulating real life battle scenarios."

The double doors led to another hallway; it was a little long and dimly lit with yellowish fluorescent lights. The room itself needed to be underground for multiple reasons; the size was certainly one consideration, as well as the activities that took part inside of it. It was Nicole's pyrokinetic play room when she was in New York—not as big as the facilities in the Quarry or even at the Triskelion—but it was also used for prototype weaponry and when Natasha and Clint wanted to do some higher stakes practice.

There were two doors at the end of the hall; one directly in front of them that would lead to the room itself and the other that led upstairs to the computer system and observatory.

"We'll go upstairs, it's the safest place for you to hang out and watch anyway." She told him, pushing the door open. "Plus I can program in a training module too, and really show off."

"I'm following your lead here," Steve shrugged, reaching up to grab the thick door. "But training modules?"

"So, this room is a state of the art combat simulator." She began, pale features illuminated under the harsh light of the overhead fluorescents. "The Bank is a research and development center as much as it is an outpost for operations; we develop new weapons and test their field applicability blah, blah, blah. It has several programmable modules that range from stationary target practice, motile target practice, hand-to-hand with dummies, as well as combat drones if you want something a little more realistic."

"I typically do either the moving targets or the drones when I'm in here. The dummies and stationary targets are better suited to the typical training ranges." They turned to the next door, the one that opened into a slightly curved staircase that led to the observation room.

"Is it something that's used a lot?" Steve asked, following her up the stairs. They were long and shallow, not too steep even though the room itself was about twenty feet tall.

"Not sure, actually. Up until May I used to live in DC. Now, the rooms like this one in DC saw their fair share of use but I spent a lot of time out of the office." She shrugged, thinking fondly of her old apartment. It hadn't been a SHIELD issued housing area, and Nicole's favorite part about it had been the loft. It had given her an extra level, extra space, and it had been pretty awesome. The next apartment she was getting was definitely going to have to have a loft in it as well.

"Oh, so you weren't always in the apartment? Or, at the very least, in Brooklyn?"

"Nah." The lights came on as soon as they entered the room, triggered by the motion detectors. "They moved me in when they found you. From what I was aware there was some debate in an apartment for you being in DC instead so that you'd be near the Triskelion, but I think that Fury sort of realized that you would settle down wherever you wanted to."

It had been one of the first real conversations she'd had with the Director following her assignment. They'd discussed the possibility-Nicole had felt it would have been a strong probability-that Steve would want nothing to do with their organization at all. She need not have worried, evidently, because with the exception of a few frustrating moments the blond seemed content where they were now.

"Oh, I wasn't aware that I had the option to decide what I wanted to do." There was something bitterly amused in his tone that made Nicole glance over at her friend. Steve was focused on the computer screens, but she could see by the tension in his jaw that made the muscle twitch ever so slightly that he was annoyed.

"That sounds about right." She sighed in response. "Fury's a manipulative bastard sometimes."

Steve grunted in response at that, attention focused entirely on the program database that Nicole brought up. There really were dozens of training options for her, but considering that it had been a bit of time since she'd last used her powers she decided to start off small; a little target practice.

"Alright, I'm going to head on down to the main floor. When I shout up at you, go ahead and start the program." Straightening with a slight groan, Nicole stretched out her back and was rewarded with a series of small cracks as the pressure was relieved from her spine. "I've started it with some stationary target practice. It probably won't stay like that for long, so I'll either ask you to change it to a different program or you can do it yourself. It's whatever."

When she'd gone into the Bank yesterday, Coulson had been waiting with a mound of paperwork and the promise that as soon as something came up he'd forward them the mission reports. Until that happened however, his recommendation was for the two of them to spend a lot of time working together. At first the suggestion had seemed sort of redundant; they lived together and did a lot of things together, but she had come to appreciate the wisdom in the statement. It wasn't so much that they needed to do mundane, domestic things together as it was they needed to get used to fighting and working together. So they were going to do some intensive SHIELD training. With the exception of a boxing match every now and again at the gym-where they'd had to hold back or risk exposing themselves-they hadn't really done much outside of individual workouts. Being at SHIELD training facilities offered the pair the comfort of being able to spar to their full potential, which they would no doubt be doing in the interim.

"Got it." Steve nodded, blue eyes analyzing every inch of the set up before he lowered himself into the chair. "Go show me what you've got, Dugan."

"Yes, sir." With a quick salute the redhead hurried out of the room, jogging down the stairs and into the main training area with a spring in her step.

It was kind of refreshing in a way, and by kind of refreshing Nicole meant that she was greatly looking forward to being able to blow off some steam in a constructive manner. She hadn't been allowed to so much as step foot on premises while she'd been on medical leave, and SHIELD facilities were the only cleared locations where she could use her powers. And oh, how she was looking forward to using her powers. They were a part of her, as natural as her blood or her breathing, and while she had spent most of her life hiding them from the general public that didn't mean she was afraid of them.

Not anymore.

"Go ahead and start it up." She called up to Steve, giving the blond a thumbs up. He was clearly visible through the observation windows, a somewhat pensive expression on his face. It was evident in the furrow between his eyebrows and the tight pinch of his lips. He frowned down at the panels, fingers hovering over the options.

"Program 16-A initiating." The automated voice announced, moments before the loud whir of the room preparing itself.

"I wonder if I can beat Barton's record." She doubted it, Hawkeye never missed, but a lady could hope. Nicole spread her arms wide, the flames springing to her hands with little more than a passing thought, bright and orange with only a little bit of yellow in the center. She could go hotter, she could go blue or white even, but that wasn't necessary for training.

The first target dropped, painted black and red and made out of clay. Nicole drew her arm back, feeling the strange tingle of the vibrating molecules and the slightest not-quite-weight of the fire against her palm. And just like playing baseball she aimed, shifted, and threw…

Crack!

The clay pigeon shattered to the floor.

The next few targets were stationary as well, but it wouldn't be a challenge if it stayed that way. Something that Steve must have realized as well, because she saw him adjusting something on the panel before the machinery of the room whirred again. She hit the first target as it came flying towards her face, turning her head against the spray of heated clay. The temperature itself didn't bother her-thermal regulation for the win-but the particles were still a little forceful.

The next target came zipping towards her, the motion picked up out of her peripheral vision as the redhead swung her other arm around. She did always love the sound of the clay disks breaking and scattering on the floor... Nicole backpedaled, balancing on the balls of her feet as her eyes picked out the slightest movements around her.

It wouldn't be nearly as fun if she just stood still and let the targets come to her.

The redhead started moving, fire flying from her fingertips as her maneuvers became showier. It was an art, what she did. It didn't necessarily have to be an art, but Nicole was of the opinion that there was no point in doing something well if she couldn't look good doing it as well. Luckily for her she'd had a lot of practice in both looking good and having very good aim.

Her spine twisted as she leaned back, flipping over one of the small walls and kicking a ball of fire into the rapidly approaching clay pigeon. There was something innately satisfying about using her powers again; it reminded her of the summers she spent in Asgard with Thor, Loki and the others. How many times had they travelled amongst the realms courting battle? They'd taken her with them after she'd turned sixteen and Nicole had been… excited. It was fantasy and knights and monsters and everything that she'd grown up reading about. Perhaps the most important part of it—for her at least—was that she had been able to be herself, well and truly herself. There was no hiding her powers like she did on Earth, at SHIELD, no lying to convince a mark to let her in close before she pulled the trigger.

It was straight up, fair fighting.

"Program 19-B2, initiating." The sound of the computerized voice drew Nicole out of her thoughts, and she glanced up to see Steve standing near the windows. His hands were braced on the ledge, blue eyes thoughtful as he watched her. There was something analytical about his features; he was Captain America and right now he wasn't watching a friend mess around. He was assessing a partner in that coldly professional manner of his.

SHIELD really didn't like to spare any expense when it came to training their operatives; the new program included holographic drones that would react as typically as any enemy in the field. It was government adapted technology taken from Stark Industries when Tony had still been working with the military. The drones themselves were surprisingly realistic, weighty as well, and she had walked out of simulations with more than a few bruises.

It made sense that Steve would want to see some of her hand-to-hand work, and Nicole dropped into a fighting stance as the first drone came swinging. It was easy; duck, kick, grab and jab, the humanoid figure dissolving into pixels as a flaming fist drove into its chest. She was sloppy, momentarily distracted to the point where she didn't perceive the next drone until she felt the surprisingly realistic foot connect with her ribs. The redhead grunted, rolling her weight as orangish yellow eyes narrowed on the drone.

Nicole jumped to her feet, falling back on muscle memory from years of training. Contrary to popular belief she hadn't learned how to fight from SHIELD. Hell, she hadn't even learned how to fight from Asgard; growing up in a family filled with war veterans, Nicole had known how to throw a punch since she'd been four years old. Much to her mother's exasperation, she'd insisted that her grandfather teach her. While the two had been arguing about whether or not she was old enough to learn how to fight—that had been a fun Thanksgiving—Aunt Peggy had quietly taken her out back and taught her to stiffen her wrist and not to tuck her thumb under her fingers.

Use anything and everything that you can as a weapon, aunt Peggy had taught her.

Hit 'em hard enough the first time that they didn't get back up, her Papou had told her.

Learn how to discern when a situation required violence and when it could be diffused with words, Gabe chided.

Watch your enemy, let them make the mistakes for you, oncle Dernier would say, tapping her nose.

Battle is an art, learn the basic steps and then make it your own, Frigga had shown.

Fighting was in her blood, it was as much a part of her as her hair and her eyes. Dragging a quick breath through her nose, Nicole sprang to her feet and adjusted her stance once more.

IOI

She's amazing. It felt like an understatement, all things considered. She was more than amazing and it wasn't just because of the fact that her hands and feet were literally on fire.

It was the way she moved, strong and assured and aware of everything, in a way that wasn't like the Nicole he lived with. That wasn't to say that she wasn't confident, but it was obvious that in this situation, in combat and high stress circumstances, there was something utterly composed about his friend, his partner. He'd seen it in the videos of interrogations she'd performed, in the footage of some of her missions, he'd seen it in DC. This was Agent Dugan, and she was different from Nicole; Nicole was relaxed with her body, her movements sporadic and instinctive and sometimes unaware of her surroundings like when she accidentally sent a glass full of water spilling over the edge of the coffee table due to a bad call in a soccer game.

Agent Dugan was precise and controlled, each movement calculated and deliberate. Steve had to wonder who this woman was, and what had been done to her that made it so easy to switch back and forth.

"The good ones are always a little broken." She'd told him, feeling fatalistic the second night she'd been home from Trondheim. "Some less than others, believe me, but there's always something… that one thing that makes it easier for us to jump into a new role, a new identity."

Nicole hadn't elaborated, but then she hadn't needed to because he understood. He understood what it felt like to be little, and frail, trapped in a body that was too small and too weak and to want to become someone bigger. Someone better.

"Tell me I'm getting soft around the edges…" That sour muttering was distinctly Nicole, and he saw the slight twist of annoyance in her features as another drone dissolved into pixels after she snapped its neck. "I've half a mind to come up there, mister."

The door behind Steve slid open, wiping away the smile that touched his lips as a vaguely familiar woman made her presence known. "Captain Rogers."

"Agent Morse." He greeted, the name appearing with a picture of a younger version of the woman, wearing the same dress uniform as Nicole had.

"Coulson told me she was here." The blonde explained absently, arms crossed over her chest and fingers drumming along the edge of a blue sleeve. "I just came to say hi."

"I can end the program if you'd like?" It was small talk, only they weren't discussing the weather, or the latest Yankees game.

He'd seen all that he needed to.

"Nah, may as well let her finish." Agent Morse shrugged, hazel eyes focused on the figure that was laughing and cocky as she blasted through drone after drone. "I can wait to bitch at her."

Another small smile flitted across his features then, private and contemplative. Nicole had told him about Agent Morse, her friend and one of the few people that she sparred with that she didn't pin to the mat after a few minutes. After their vacation in Georgia, and with three weeks of absolutely nothing to do, Nicole had been willing to share a lot more details. It was how he'd learned about the friends she'd made at SHIELD, the spring tradition where she and Trip would marathon the Lord of the Rings, first with the commentary and without, after mission drinks with Romanoff—sometimes Barton—if they happened to be in the same city at the same time, and the lunches she would have with Morse if there was the opportunity.

"Back to sparring with new recruits?" He offered blandly, noticing the way that Agent Morse grimaced slightly.

"Challenge level has definitely lowered." Morse confirmed. "She told me that Coulson was partnering you two together. Have you been given any missions yet?"

"Not yet, we're supposed to be though. Soon? Nicole only came off of medical leave yesterday." But the woman next to him knew that, because she didn't react at all to the statement other than a contemplative hum in the back of her throat.

"Knowing how Coulson runs his teams, he probably wants to make sure he's got something that suits you both." She ventured. "It won't be deep cover, it won't be espionage because—no offense—that's not your thing."

Steve wondered if he should be offended at the woman's presumption. He wasn't though, because inevitably she was right; he wasn't a spy, he was a soldier.

"Something will come up." She shrugged at last.

"It always does." He agreed.

"Is that Bobbi?" Nicole's voice was much closer this time, no surprise considering her nose was so close to the glass that he could literally count the freckles smattered across them. "It is Bobbi! What's cookin' good lookin?"

She hadn't been lying when she said she could fly, the light coning from her feet just like Stark's suit.

Beside him, Agent Morse reached up to flick at the glass. "I was in the city, just finished up a job in Dubai and thought I'd see if you wanted to grab lunch."

Nicole grinned, it was wide and toothy and it was her. "I'd love to. It'll have to wait a little bit though, we're still technically on the clock."

"So am I." The woman grinned back. "I've got a meeting in fifteen. Should last until—eh—three?"

"Three." Nicole glanced at him quickly, waiting for his response. Steve shrugged; it didn't matter to him and after spending so much time together they both needed a little solitude.

"Three works." She confirmed happily. "The sandwich spot on Orchard Street?"

"You're a woman after my own heart." It was still a little surreal that Nicole was just hovering there, talking to them upwards of fifteen feet off the floor, but his friend didn't even seem to notice. Her eyes were glowing orange, they looked almost hellish through the slight tinting of the protective ballistics glass and if she started dropping or bobbing she steadied only a few seconds later.

"Only because I can't smell your stinky ass right now." Agent Morse looked down at her watch, frowning slightly. "I'd better get moving… you know how Coulson prefers to be early. Captain."

Steve nodded in her direction, watching as the woman backed towards the door.

"Three o'clock, Morse! Don't stand me up!" Nicole shouted at the retreating figure, her smile turning slightly nervous when she glanced back at him. "So… what'd you think?"

"I think you're amazing. I also think it would be more, hm, comfortable to discuss this without you flying because it's kind of weird and throwing me off a bit." He remembered the days when the weirdest thing around was him, and he thought back on them with a nostalgic fondness.

Nicole wrinkled her nose at those words, chin rolling slightly at the face she made at him. "What? Gosh Steve, it's like you don't see people flying on a regular basis."

"It's really the eyes that are getting me." They were glowing, especially in the light, and it was more than eerie.

Her brows furrowed, one hand absently reaching up to brush along the plane of her cheek. "Oh, yeah, I forgot that they did that. I'll meet you at the doors."

Nicole dropped at that, head dipping out of view in a matter of seconds before Steve turned to meet his friend. It didn't take long to shut down the programming–there was a little bit of head scratching, but he did press the wrong button–and make his way to the bottom of the stairs. It took less time, however, for the redhead to cross the room and leave it as evidenced by the fact that she was leaning against the shut door and pressing a towel to her face.

"So how long did it take you to learn how to do all of that?" Steve asked curiously, prompting the redhead to glance up over the edge. "Though I think the flying is my favorite part."

Nicole grinned at him, the left side of her mouth drawing back to reveal her teeth. "Hard to say, I was learning how to fight since I was four. I think I started incorporating my magical prowess into my routine when I was thirteen though. Flying came around seventeen, and let me tell you, I smacked into a lot of walls, trees and trash cans that year."

It was a hilarious mental image, which he didn't hesitate to inform his friend earning a halfhearted jab in the ribs. "Yeah, sure, laugh it up Steve. You still can't corner well when you run."

"I–yeah, you're right." He tried to protest, but then he was reminded of the time that he'd accidentally crashed right into a bench when they'd gone running in Central Park.

Nicole just rolled her eyes at him, towel slung around her neck as they returned to the training rooms. "You wanna spar?"

"I'd like to yeah. We just mess around when we're at Goldie's; I'd like to actually put you through your paces so to speak, work on our combat together. And then do some target practice." With the exception of what happened at DC, Steve hadn't even so much as held a gun let alone fired one and if they were going to put him back out into the field he would need to brush up on his shooting.

"Sounds like a plan. We're going to amass a crowd you know." She pointed out, navigating around a few agents on her way to the training mats.

"We always do." Whether they were at the gym or here at the Bank, everybody seemed to become fascinated whenever either he or Nicole were in the training ring. "I've kind of gotten used to it."

"Oh man, it gets so bad sometimes. Like, when Barton and Romanoff sparred for the first time in public we knew it was going to happen like a week in advance-no don't ask me how I still have no idea-and there were bets." They finally settled on an uninhabited area in a back corner. "I made over three hundred bucks that day."

Nobody had been expecting a tie.

"There have been bets between me and Nat, me and Clint, me and Bobbi, Nat and Clint, Nat and Bobbi, Clint and Bobbi," She ticked them off with her fingers, "Trip and Klein, that one time when Ward was being a little bitch and decided to call me out… Coincidentally, he ended up being sent out on the day that we were gonna practice."

"And now you and me." Steve smirked, fishing out their hand wraps. His were a bland beige color, bought with functionality prevalent in mind. Not to say that the bright purple wraps weren't functional; she'd just… made her decision almost entirely based on the color. "Think we're going to start a gambling ring of our own?"

Nicole grinned at that, looping the cotton wrap between her fingers as her brown eyes scanned the area. "Okay, did you see the agent that went bolting out of here?"

"Smaller girl, curly brown hair?" She nodded in confirmation.

"She's off to go tell everyone she can that we're about to start training." The redhead informed him. "Kirk-west wall, dirty blond hair-is no doubt texting his friends too."

"How much money are we about to cost them, do you think?" He fastened the Velcro strip, stretching his arms over his head. It gave the slightest glimpse at his abs, if the way that Kirk slowly lowered his phone was anything to go by.

"I don't know, but if we keep this up I'm going to have to start making wagers of my own. We could make a lot of money out of this if you were okay with throwing a few matches."

"Always a businessman, Dugan." He kicked off his shoes, watching as his friend did the same before tossing her knee brace against them.

The redhead shrugged her shoulders, eyes widening innocently. "What? Are you implying that I, a responsible government agent, would hustle my fellow coworkers?"

Steve hummed in response, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smile at her. "I would never."

The first time they'd boxed, months ago now when they'd both been annoyed with one another, Steve had been surprised at how challenging it had been. Nicole had been steamed, yeah, but she also hadn't been trying too hard. It had been the same song and dance each time afterwards, hitting just hard enough to get a reaction out of him, but never putting any real strength behind it. Steve had done the same, always carefully aware of the force behind each strike. Nicole had been the one to bring up the fact that the general public still wasn't aware that Captain America was more than just a campaign advertisement, let alone the fact that he was alive and healthy in the 21st century.

Today was going to be different; today they were going to spar like their lives depended on it. And out in the field it was entirely possible that their lives would be depending on it.

Nicole circled, fists raised as she fell into a wide stance. Her face was completely blank, cold and serene as her brown eyes dissected his every movement. Boxing with Bucky had been fun, if not a little frustrating, with trash talk and joking and that sarcastic smirk that his best friend had all but trademarked. Boxing with Nicole had been fun, but cautious, constantly making sure that they weren't drawing too much attention to one another, with trash talk in mostly French and joking, and every now and then a mildly dirty trick. This was going to be none of these things, and he knew it.

He let out a careful breath and raised his own hands.

Nicole struck first, fist moving with lightning speed. He parried, blocking the blow that was no doubt intended for his side and followed up with a swipe at her shoulder. It barely glanced off of her arm, knocked aside by the flat of her forearm and before he could blink her foot connected with his shin. Steve hissed in pain at that, backing up slightly. He knew she was good, had seen it just a few minutes ago, but he also knew that of the two of them he would be able to endure longer. It wasn't personal bragging on his behalf; Nicole had expended more energy showing him her powers than he had by just standing there. His left foot slid back as he threw another jab at her, balance stabilizing when she spun to block him. Nicole fought with quick, sudden strikes, each as decisive as the last.

It didn't take long for them to amass a crowd, other agents all gathering around them. Some shouted encouragement, others tips, and try as he might Steve couldn't tune them out. He'd spent too much time in the war, needing to be vigilantly aware of his surroundings, needing to know precisely when to duck to avoid the bullet that he can't see coming. He wondered if his friend was the same way.

She must be. He realized when one of the agents shouted some rather colorful encouragement and her lips lifted just a little in response.

Nicole hit hard when she was trying, hard enough that Steve knew he was going to be sore afterwards. And her style was interesting; it wasn't pure boxing, it was a mix of the style that she'd used earlier. Her movements were quick, fluid and acrobatic. He barely managed to avoid the high kick that would have sent him flying backwards, ducking under it and knocking her off balance. It was a long ranged fighting style, aggressive and he could tell that she was incredibly skilled in it.

But she was getting tired, and sloppy.

She stumbled back slightly when he jabbed her in the stomach, reaction just a split section too slow, hand responding without its characteristic decision. Steve sprang on the opportunity, grabbing her arm and pulling her into a headlock. Nicole moved like lightning, shifting her stance so that her hips were behind his. Before he could react she grabbed him and flipped him over her hip.

His back hit the mat with a thud, the force of it leaving the blond a little stunned as he blinked up at the ceiling. The training room erupted with a cheer, and Nicole came to stand over him breathing heavily.

"I yield." He grunted, holding up his hands.

The redhead watched him closely for a heartbeat until her lips drew back and her eyes warmed. "Thank God, I don't think I was gonna last much longer."

"What was that style?" He asked, allowing her to pull him up. "You were using it in the room too."

"Northern shaolin kung-fu." She answered, grimacing as her palm accidentally grazed against her side. "Works well with my size and breathing."

"Show me?" He asked. It was effective, but more than that it was incredible how it allowed her to use even the slightest body movement with precision.

She huffed out a laugh at that, glancing over at one of the large clocks. "We've got time to work on some of the forms, though I can't promise that I'm gonna be the best teacher."

"Can't promise that I'm gonna be the best student either." Steve grinned, tossing her one of the two water bottles. "But let's save that for another time. I want a rematch."

"You're on."

The SHIELD agents were starting to disperse, more than a small number grumbling as they dug out their wallets. A few stayed as they took their places again, no doubt they had little else to do and wanted to stay to enjoy the show. This time when they fought it was familiar; Nicole threw clever barbs at him in French and her face lacked the cool intensity from earlier. Instead she was playful, warm, and he couldn't help but respond.

He won that round.

More agents trickled in to watch.

"Ce pantalon te fait de grosse." She quipped, laughter chasing the words.

She flipped him over her hip and placed her foot on his throat.

A few swore as they lost their money.

"Tes doigts sont velus." He taunted back, making her stumble as her face twisted.

He twisted her arm behind her back and brought her to her knees.

Some cheered at his victory.

It continued like that for a handful more rounds until, with forty-five minutes left before three, Nicole decided to call it quits. At the end they tied with eight wins each, and for the most part everybody else had returned to their duties.

"And you called me fat." Nicole grunted from where she was practically sitting on him, brows pinching together as she leaned back to flick his nose.

"You are fat Rogers." The redhead heaved herself off of him, flopping down on her back beside him. "Very fat."

He rolled his eyes at that, panting slightly as he tried to catch his breath. Sparring with Nicole was… intense, and definitely an exercise. "You have to go to lunch in less than an hour."

The redhead hummed at that, sitting up. "I should shower first."

"Didn't wanna say anything, but…" He chuckled, protesting weakly at the bony fingers that dug into his ribs. "Hey now!"

"Come on blondie, you stink too." With a groan Nicole climbed to her feet and went to grab her towel.

Steve sputtered when one landed on his face, hand lifting to drag it over his sweat slicked features. He stood up too, grabbing the water bottle and downing the remains. They both made their ways to the locker rooms, showering and changing quickly. Nicole was waiting outside of the door, leaning against the wall when he came out feeling much more refreshed.

"I'm surprised," He glanced at her, "I figured you would have been gone by now."

"Well, I thought about skipping out and leaving you with the bill… but before I go I figured I'd give you the keys to my car. You know, since I drove." She offered. "But it's just a thought."

"I can catch the subway back, it wouldn't be too much of a trouble." He offered instead, prompting an eye roll that was a little overdramatic.

"You can, but that's not nearly as fun. Besides, I'll just catch a ride home with Bobbi." Nicole dug her keys out, held together on a battered and well used climbing clip. "And you can't complain that my car is too cramped for your legs either; I'm only a couple of inches shorter than you."

"Fair enough." He had learned early to pick and choose his battles. "But when I get into a multi-state car chase it's your own fault."

"Mhm, just remember, the head of the dragon in a hula-skirt flips up to reveal the NOS button." He laughed at that, reaching out to collect the keys.

"At the very least you can walk me to the door."

Nicole looped her arm through his. "It's only the polite thing to do, darling."

The way she said it, emphasizing her drawl, he couldn't keep a straight face. As they started walking towards the parking lot of the Bank, they were both gasping for air. They received more than their fair share of confused, concerned, and awed looks from the other agents, but Steve didn't really pay too much attention because Nicole was doing a promenade for the Ministry of Silly Walks and the next thing he knew his legs were flopping out at awkward angles as well.

It was nice not being all stoic and rigid all the time.

"I'm just saying," The low whispering caught his attention as they stepped into the afternoon sun, "I'd throw a match or two if it meant getting pinned by Dugan, too. Have you seen that ass?"

Steve stumbled to a stop, head whipping around to see an agent leaning against an open car door speaking to another agent wearing tactical gear. Nicole stopped too, a question on her lips that he silenced with a gesture.

"You're so full of shit, Gordon." The man in tactical gear snorted. "Dugan would kick your ass without breaking a sweat. And you owe me forty bucks."

"Whatever man, there's no way she could beat Captain America. Though I tell you what I wouldn't mind going up against her. Maybe have a little tie-breaker in private? How much do you wanna bet he's hitting that?"

"Oh, shut up Gordon." Nicole hissed in annoyance, placing a restraining hand on his shoulder. "Steve, don't."

He glanced over at her, fists clenched and jaw locked. "That guy is badmouthing you like that, and you just want me to let it go? Nobody talks about my friends like that."

"Gordon is just being an ass." She shook her head, lips twitching slightly in what might have been a smile. "It's nothing new. And while I don't disagree that he could use a good punching, it's really not worth the trouble. I've heard worse."

"That doesn't forgive his attitude." He hissed back, dangling on that fine thread between listening to the voice of reason and giving in to the urge to go give Gordon an attitude adjustment. "That also doesn't make it better."

God knew he'd done it plenty of times when he was half his current size.

"No, it doesn't." She agreed, tugging him towards the car. If he really wanted to, Steve could dig in his heels, resist, but something on Nicole's face had him following. "But I don't need a white knight defending my honor; if I really wanted to prove a point I could. I've done it before."

"So why don't you?" She gave him a sly look then, nudging him against the bright green paint of her Prius.

"Because I really don't give a fuck." The words slid between her lips lazy and unhurried. "Honestly, I don't. Gordon is a misogynistic pissbaby who I could easily hospitalize if I really wanted to. And we both know it, so this? It's the only way he can feel like a big, strong man. And I don't care about his fragile masculinity either way to validate it or completely destroy it. I know that I'm a good agent, my superiors know I'm a good agent, and the people who really matter know that I have integrity. Everyone else is just… eh."

Steve threw one last look over his shoulder, brows furrowed and blue eyes burning in an indignant glare. "It would be satisfying."

"It's sweet, but it's also fine." She snorted, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. "I have to go now, and I certainly hope you're not going to get into a fight on a work premises. Can I stop you? No. So don't get bloodstains on my interior, it's cloth and hard to clean out."

"You're a good person, Nicole Dugan." He sighed, separating the car key from the house key.

"Don't tell anyone."

IOI

"I'm getting a divorce." That was not, perhaps, what Nicole had first been expecting to hear when she sat down on the wrought iron chair across from Bobbi.

The words were delivered in that deadpan, matter of fact way of her friend, and Nicole let out a slow exhale as she eased herself more gently into the seat. "I'm sorry."

It was a platitude, it was cliché, but it was also true. Bobbi was one of those people who had a tendency to keep her personal cards close to her chest; she had secrets, her secrets had secrets, and it was easy for the wrong people to mistake her for being cold and unfeeling. She did feel though, she felt as richly and as real as anyone else did, and while the blonde could play herself off as right as rain Nicole knew better. She knew that her friend was upset.

"It was a long time coming, I think." Bobbi gave a half-hearted shrug. "Turned out we've done more fighting than anything else this past year."

Nicole pressed her lips together at that, her response clipped by the appearance of their waitress. As soon as the woman was gone, the notepad tucked into the pocket of her apron and attention drawn by another table, the redhead turned her attention fully to the friend that she hadn't seen in four months.

"What happened?" She asked, tucking the still damp strands of hair behind her ear.

"I caught him cheating on me." Bobbi replied easily.

"Bullshit." Lance Hunter was many things, and from time to time an incorrigible flirt was one of them. Nicole had had the privilege of meeting the man before and while there had been a lot of alcohol flowing at that particular Christmas party, she knew for a fact that Lance had been absolutely besotted.

The small twitch of Bobbi's mouth was all the answer she needed, and the blonde shook her head ruefully. "We're just not good together anymore, I suppose. Between work and home, and work coming home, all of the travel and everything else. It's easier this way."

She took a sip of water. "Plus his folding skills were horrific."

It wasn't easier in any way, because Nicole could see the tension in Bobbi's shoulders and the sorrow through the thin humor. She wasn't showing it-she never did-but Nicole still saw it.

"I am sorry sweetie." She reached out to place her hand lightly on Bobbi's arm. "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine." She answered quickly, "I'm lying. I'm not fine. It sucks."

"It does suck." The redhead agreed, "Do you wanna come over and watch cheesy horror movies with me?"

Bobbi was studying the pattern on the table, but her face lost some of it's tension at that. "My eardrums haven't recovered fully from the last time I watched horror movies with you."

"Oh bite my ass."

"What?" The blonde lifted a hand to her ear. "You have mites on your asp?"

"You're being mean!" Nicole whined, placing a hand to her heart. "Stop being mean!"

"Did you say to stop eating greens? Because those are an important part of any diet and–hey!" Nicole whistled innocently as the waitress returned with their sandwiches and, okay, yeah she was momentarily distracted by the mouthwatering Rueben.

She savored the first bite, a comfortable silence falling between the two friends as they ate.

"Seriously though, do you wanna do something tonight?" Nicole asked after a few minutes. "Anything at all? Movies? Drinks? Matching best friend tattoos?"

"Ooh, sorry." Bobbi didn't look sorry at all. "I already told Mack I wouldn't let anyone else get matching tattoos with me."

"Breaking my heart, Morse!"

"Better than when you broke your ass falling out of that second story hotel room." Nicole grimaced at that reminder; they'd been routing out a drug ring in Colombia when Bobbi had accidentally pushed her right out of the window. She hadn't been able to slow her fall in any way, and had landed right on her tailbone, effectively shattering it.

"Fuck that hurt." The redhead grunted, the phantom pains making her tense. "Though I have to admit the look on your face made it almost worth it."

Bobbi let out a huff of laughter at that, and Nicole felt a swell of satisfaction. Divorces were difficult and messy with regular people. Between two top secret government agents? No doubt it was downright hell to deal with, and Bobbi had been her friend since the Academy. Nicole wanted to do everything she could to help.

"Here, look, I have an idea." The redhead nudged her friend with her foot, drawing the blonde's gaze to hers. "What if you come over to the apartment? Or I'll come to your hotel room? We can watch lame movies, I'll bring ice cream, and we can reminisce about all of the times that you've done me bodily harm."

"I don't know if I'm really feeling up to it." Bobbi hedged, "I'm flying out tomorrow and…"

"Come on, it'll be fun! We can have popcorn, wine, and discuss how absolutely horrible everything is in Troll 2! You know you want to!" She offered her most charming smile, which was pretty damn adorable if she did say so herself.

"I do love it when you get all metacritic during bad movies." Bobbi was still on the fence, but the blonde suddenly grinned. "Yeah, alright deal. Come to the hotel though; as much as I want to see the apartment you set on fire…"

"You don't wanna deal with strangers." Nothing against Steve, but Bobbi didn't like to show vulnerability around people that she didn't know incredibly well.

"You read my mind, Dugan." The blonde took another bite of her sandwich. "God I missed this place."

"I know, right?"

IOI

Translations: French

Ce pantalon te fait de grosse. Those pants make your butt look big.

Tes doigts sont velus. You have hairy knuckles.