Author's Note: When I said you can nag me for chapter updates, I really meant "please guys, nag at me for updates!" I really need the motivation! Good news: next chapter is also done, I'll be uploading it tomorrow or the day after. Thanks for being so patient with me and hanging in there for so long! - strike

I find Dr. Nikolav at his desk, his nose buried in a science fiction novel. He glances up with a smile when he notices my presence, gesturing for me to come in.

"I was wondering if you could tell me what Ty Milaya means in Russian." I seat myself in one of the empty chairs in front of his desk.

"That's an unusual translation request…" The smile disappears, replaced by a vexed frown.

"Why? What does it mean?"

"It means 'you are cute', essentially." He bookmarks his page in the book and sets it aside, clasping his hands together in front of him.

That can't be right. I'm sure Bucky was just mocking me—it didn't seem like a compliment.

"…There are no alternate meanings?" I tone down my surprise, but my brain is frantically recreating last night's conversation in an effort to figure out if I misheard something.

It's safe to say that Dr. Nikolav's curiosity has been piqued, based on the way he's now observing me.

"That's the direct translation. Did a student say it to you? Are you being sexually harassed?"

As touched as I am by his well-meaning concern, I'm not about to tell him that Bucky said it. Even just the mention of his name right now would betray how I feel about him.

With Rumlow, well… He was bold, risqué even. Confident in his seductive skills, that's for sure. Yes, it was charming. But somehow this simple compliment I wasn't meant to understand … It feels more thrilling.

I feel like a middle school girl again.

Ridiculous, right?

"I'm not being sexually harassed, I promise." I give Dr. Nikolav a reassuring smile. After a moment of scrutiny, he accepts my claim and returns his attention to the book in front of him.

"Why didn't you ask James? He's fluent in Russian, you know."

I'm slightly worried that he's figured out the source of the compliment, but the disinterested tone of his voice suggests otherwise.

"He knows Russian?" I feign surprise anyway, just in case. Nikolav raises a bushy eyebrow at me.

"You worked with him at Shield… You live with him, and you didn't know?" He casts me a slightly incredulous, slightly skeptical look.

I shrug.

To be fair, we've only lived together for a week, and that's if you count the amount of time he spent out.

"He's kind of distant, if you haven't noticed." I frown, "There's a lot I don't know about him."

"But you'd like to."

I give a small nod.

"I'm sure he'll open up to you in time. He thinks very highly of you." He waves my concern off as he leans back in his chair, "I asked him to help me with some translation work for my next meta-analysis. I can't help thinking he accepted it only because I'm your supervisor."

"How did you know he speaks Russian?"

"You know me, I have a habit of cursing in my mother tongue sometimes." A wide grin appears on his face, "I spilled my coffee when he was here, used some colourful language, and he chuckled! So I asked him about it."

"There's a lot more to him than he lets on."

It often seems like Bucky's closer to understanding me than I am to understanding him.

"That's a given, considering what he's been through." Dr. Nikolav's smile briefly disappears, "but whether this education came from his Hydra training or not, it's good for him to have a productive way to make use of it now."

That's a good point, I guess.

"Sounds like you feel guilty about having him do your manual labour." I tease, standing to leave.

"He'll get a mention as an author on the published paper, isn't that a great honor?" He shrugs, offering a sheepish smile.

"That doesn't mean anything to anyone except scientists." I raise a skeptical eyebrow, and he just laughs.

"Well, in my defense, he'll spend less time in the animal behaviour labs and your house will smell less like fish when he comes home. Happy wife, happy life."

"Except for the part where we're roommates, not married." I correct him, a smile tugging at my lips.

"Why not? You just moved in alone with a single man—he is single, isn't he?—you're basically newly-weds." He shrugs, "…at that first stage of marriage where he's still calling you cute."

There's a mischievous glint in his eyes, and there's no doubt about it. He knows.

I scramble for some kind of explanation, but he doesn't give me time to think of one.

"One more thing, Elise." He picks up his book again. "Your favourite person is in town."

I give him a questioning look, and he doesn't even try to hide the coy smile on his face.

"The esteemed Riley West, of course." Dr. Nikolav confirms my suspicions, "He's in DC to attend a conference. I asked him to present this Friday's guest lecture… He made a point of asking me if you'd attend."

That's unusual. I haven't heard from the man in years.

When I was in undergrad, he was a very popular teaching assistant in some of my courses—my favourite teaching assistant, actually... partly because I crushed on him. His insufferably over-achieving personality gave me something of an inferiority complex though.

Last I heard, he'd been granted a full-tenured teaching position at Cambridge at the ridiculously young age of 30, and half of his colleagues hated him for it. Wouldn't be the first time he was unpopular for being so damn brilliant. Handsome, and brilliant.

"Sure, I'll go." I shrug. I'm curious about why he's taken such great pains to meet me. Might as well see what he wants.