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Steak-Out

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"Is it overkill if I feed you a bite of steak?" Natasha asked.

"Probably," said Bucky. "Good for our cover story. Might win us a free creme brulee."

Natasha leaned across the table, her cleavage rippling above her scarlet gown. Bucky delicately removed a bite of filet mignon from her fork with his teeth and chewed, savoring the steak's rich tender flavor.

"It's especially good with the wine the waiter recommended," Natasha told him. .

Bucky swallowed and shook his head. "Shouldn't drink on duty."

"But maintaining our covers is part of our duty. Who goes to a fancy restaurant and doesn't drink?"

Bucky lifted his glass to toast her argument and took a sip of Syrah. "Mmm. Does maintaining our cover mean we've gotta get wine with dessert? We could expense account the fancy brandy."

But Natasha's eyes flicked to the left. "He's on the move."

"Shit. Seriously? I haven't even finished my lobster."

"If I'm not back by the time you finish it, come after me." Natasha unclasped her shell-shaped clutch purse and applied bright red lipstick. "I just need to step out to the little girls' room for a minute," she cooed in her sugariest voice, and minced across the dining room in her stiletto heels, hips swaying.

Those shoes would transform into combat boots as soon as she pressed a little button on her bracelet. Tony's invention.

Bucky was just dipping his last bite of lobster in butter while surreptitiously checking the gun in his shoulder holster when Natasha returned. A tendril of auburn hair had fallen out of her updo. She flicked it behind her shoulder with a lacquered fingertip, in the process showing Bucky the USB drive tucked in the palm of her hand.

"Want some creme brulee?" Bucky asked.

"You know I'm on a diet, honeybear," she said, with her best pout.

Which meant the lipstick wouldn't knock the guy out long enough to allow time for dessert. Bucky sighed and caught the waiter's eye. "May I have the check?"