"First rule of going on the run is don't run, walk."

"If I run in these shoes, they're gonna fall off."

An involuntary snort of amusement sounds from me as I adjust the thick rimmed square glasses on my face, pulling my black beanie down a little further. Still wearing my chestnut brown hoodie and black jogging leggings, I had decided that unlike Steve and Natasha, I didn't really need a wardrobe change. The STRIKE team didn't see me before, and I'm not even on their radar. Yet.

It doesn't take long to find a tech store and fiddle around on one of the test and display laptops, and as Natasha plays around with the computer, Steve and I ever so often peer over our shoulders to check for oncoming hostiles. "You know," I start, amidst waiting for Natasha to set up the computer for the hard drive. "I never trusted Rumlow and his goons – probably why I went off my gut instinct and argued with them every chance I got."

"Lilly, you argue with everyone at every chance you get," Steve nearly deadpans, but the twinkle of amusement is evident in his eyes.

I hum thoughtfully. "True, but I only resort to provoking people and sarcasm because beating the shit out of people is frowned upon."

"... and illegal," Steve finishes for me, despite me being unaware that my sentence needed to be finished.

Shrugging, I open my mouth to comment on how nothing we do is really legal and how we're currently fugitives, so the legalities of assault really isn't something we should be concerned about right now, but Natasha intervenes and instead begins to steer us back on track. "The drive has a Level Six homing program, so as soon as we boot up, SHIELD will know exactly where we are."

"How much time will we have?" Steve asks.

"Ah, about nine minutes from..." She plugs in the hard drive mid-sentence, announcing "now."

"Nine is more than enough," I contribute, spotting Steve's concerned and cautious stares thrown around the room. "Plus we've worked with Rumlow and the STRIKE team long enough to know their telltales and go-to strategies. We're not fighting complete strangers, just liars."

"Didn't take you for an optimist Lilly," Natasha evenly comments, a tinge of humour in her tone.

A wry smile plays at my lips. "I'm not. But the mere thought of being able to finally knock in Brock's perfect teeth has put me in a spritely mood."

"We're trying to avoid it coming to that," Steve feels the need to remind me, but appears nearly as satisfied and entertained by the prospect as I do.

"I know, I know. I'm just saying, if it did come to that, I'm more than happy to toss provocations and sarcasm aside and bear the burden of breaking a nose or two. Preferably Rumlow, but hell, I'll take Rollins as well."

"How considerate of you," Natasha smiles a small smile.

I shrug, basking in the glory of her sarcastic compliment. "Eh, just doing my civic duty as a loyal and virtuous American citizen."

A couple minutes pass unproblematic, and Natasha begins to run us through a few things about the hard drive. "Fury was right about that ship. Somebody's trying to hide something. This drive is protected by some sort of AI; it keeps rewriting itself to counter my commands."

Jarvis would beats it's ass in 0.2 seconds. Just saying.

"Can you override it?" Steve inquires, staring at the computer thoughtfully when realistically; he probably doesn't understand what any of the finer technicalities on this hard drive mean. Bless him, he tries.

Natasha pauses in thought, lips thinning into a grim line for no more than a millisecond. "The person who developed this is slightly smarter than me. Slightly."

More time passes, time that proves fruitless in Natasha's endeavours to crack the hard drive. I've never been a complete wiz with computers, enough so to mildly keep up to Ally, but not as good as Nat. So I watch on with Steve anxiously, the seconds ticking down, as the STRIKE team and Brock Rumlow undoubtedly get closer and closer to our destination.

"I'm gonna try running a tracer," she eventually resigns, knowing that we're running out of time. "This is a program that SHIELD developed to track hostile malware, so, if we can't read the file, maybe we can find out where it came from—"

Just as things are beginning to look up, a happy, go-lucky employee with luscious blonde locks and a beard fit for a Viking rocks up to us, eager to help. "Can I help you guys with anything?" He asks cheerfully, and despite being mildly irritated by the interruption at a very inopportune time, I can't find it in myself to be mad at the guy.

I open my mouth to sport out some elaborate lie – I've become a pathological liar by now – but I'm beaten by Natasha by one second. One of her arms wrap around my shoulders, the other around Steve's, and the nicest voice I have ever heard her speak in tumbles past her lips. "Oh, no. I was just helping my sister and her fiancé with some honeymoon destinations." She giggles, like, giggles as she hugs Steve and I together, and immediately I fall into step with act, in spite of it catching me off guard.

Giggling not too dissimilarly to how Natasha did moments ago as she now returns to the laptop, I reach up on my tiptoes and peck Steve lightly on the cheek, hooking arms with him and cheerily cuddling into his side, forming a human wall with him between the employee and Natasha.

"Right, we're getting married," Steve crookedly smiles, able to muster some conviction as he stands before the employee, as to not sound entirely thrown off by the news.

"Congratulations! Where are you guys thinking about going?" The employee remains friendly and keeps up the conversation, peering at the screen right when it zeroes in on New Jersey.

"New Jersey," I pipe up; face flush against Steve's shoulder in the midst of keeping the act going. "Lot of beautiful places there, like Paterson Great Falls and Old Victorian Cape May. Tasha here actually suggested it; it's why she's helping us with it all. Couldn't ask for a better sister."

Knowing Adelaide's weird sixth sense of always knowing when I talk about her, she probably heard that all the way from New York.

"Oh, cool," the employee replies politely. He looks like he's buying the whole story, right until he starts eyeing Steve's face in a near-recognisable manner. Already devising a scheme to deal with the guy should he begin yelling 'Oh my God! Captain America! Dude, you're the best' my grip on Steve tightens ever so slightly a—

"I have the exact same glasses."

....

Whoop-de-fucking-doo, good for you.

"Wow, you two are practically twins." You know, sometimes I wish I could deadpan the way Natasha can deadpan. The sound of giving absolutely zero fucks in a monotonous tone with an expression devoid of emotions is so goddamn funny. I remember it being something I admired her for even in my assassin years.

The man chuckles at Nat's words in disbelief. "Yeah, I wish," he replies, turning his attention from Nat back to Steve, gesturing at Rogers' body as if he was a god. "Specimen."

This guy knows what's up.

Continuing, he lifts his lanyard as he informs "If you guys need anything, I've been Aaron."

"Thank you," Steve, ever the polite gentleman, responds graciously, the employee finally letting us be.

"It's hard been irritated with a guy that nice," I wistfully comment, releasing my grip on Steve forlornly. "Don't you think my darling fiancé?"

His stare practically screams 'Not now' regardless of it only being half-hearted, and instead opts to turn to Natasha pressingly. "You said nine minutes, come on."

"Shh relax," she reassures at complete ease, a little sound coming from the computer as it identifies the manufacturing site of the drive to be Wheaton, New Jersey.

Wheaton... Wheaton Wheaton Wheaton... Wheaton New Jersey... Why is that familiar?

One look at Steve and he seems to feel the same way, and yet, unlike me, he seems to know exactly where that is. Steve recognising the place manages to prompt my own memory, as I remember back to the Captain America exhibition at the Smithsonian and how he and his Howling Commandos were trained at the military camp in Wheaton. That would make sense, with Peggy Carter being the founding mother of SHIELD and all. What a boss ass bitch, wish I got to meet her.

We waste no time in our departure from the store, but it's fairly obvious that we spent too much time here. Rumlow and the rest of STRIKE would be in the building by now, a fact that is proven the moment we turn a corner and Steve identifies the STRIKE agents. "Standard tac team," he notes, surveying them inconspicuously and then keeping his head down. "Two behind, two across, and two coming straight at us. If they make us I'll engage, you hit the south escalator to the metro—"

"Shut up and put your arms around us. Laugh at something we said." I blink at the suddenness of Natasha's words, feeling slightly off my game and rusty at all of this. Has it really been that long since I was an assassin carrying out a standard mission?

Steve is clearly confused by her abruptness. "What—?"

"Do it."

Someone is demanding.

Without another second to lose, his arms wrap around Natasha and my shoulders, the three of us keeping our heads down as a small chuckle is forced out of each one of us. Once the STRIKE agents have passed, Steve throws a glance over his shoulder, surprised by how easily they ignored us. I have to suppress a real laugh this time, thoroughly amused by how highly skilled and trained agents of SHIELD and HYDRA get uncomfortable at the sight of a little PDA.

We manage to reach the escalator before the next problem arises, said problem being the exact person I wouldn't mind reaching over and shoving down the other escalator if it didn't blow our cover. Standing between Natasha and Steve, I open my mouth to warn them when Natasha snaps to face me and orders "Kiss."

Steve frowns. "What?"

"Public displays of affection make people very uncomfortable," she hastily explains.

His frown only deepens. "Yes, they do—"

Not having the time to argue with Steve, she turns to me expectantly, a hint I take for me to turn around and kiss Steve –

– but ends with Natasha reaching forward and kissing me instead.

And she holds it for a while.

Not what I was expecting but we're in it now and god dammit I wish I could see the expression on Steve's face.

After Rumlow passes us without an issue, the red-head pulls away entirely unfazed and starts her way down the escalator, flippantly commenting "Lilly wasn't uncomfortable with it."

I shrug helplessly behind her, still not looking at Steve. "Surprised maybe, but not uncomfortable. How about you, Rogers. Uncomfortable now?"

A deep sigh can be heard behind me, prompting a small smirk on my behalf. "It's not exactly the word I would use."

***

The drive to New Jersey is nearly soundless and devoid of conversation. I've had my earphones plugged in for the majority of it, sitting in the back and enjoying listening to songs such as Dorothy's Wicked Ones. Mainly because once I started singing Life is a Highway by Tom Cochrane, Natasha almost threw me out the window.

Having now put my music aside and opted for catching some shut eye for the past half hour or so, thanks to a sudden wave of nausea and sickness (yay -_-) I nearly drift off when Natasha's abrupt question from the front stirs me awake again. "Where did Captain America learn how to steal a car?"

"Nazi Germany."

"Mm."

"And we're borrowing. Take your feet off the dash."

I don't even need to look at Nat to know she's smiling right now, taking her time removing her feet from the dash. Silence envelops the car again afterwards, silence which I'm more than thankful for, allowing my eyes to flutter close—

"All right Lilly, I have a question for you—"

God fucking dammit.

"—which you do not need to answer. I feel like I already know the answer, but I want a confirmation anyway—"

"If it means that I can finally get some damn sleep then ask away, my dear Russian compadre," I impatiently cut her off, shifting to sit up a bit straighter for the inquiry.

"Was that your first time kissing another woman?"

This time I fully open my eyes, meeting her curious stare and quirking an eyebrow at her intrigued. "What do you think?"

"No."

"Well you would think right."

"Bisexual or lesbian, then? Or just for cover in missions?" She continues to push, a little too interested in the matter. Then again, she seems to invest an unhealthy amount of time in helping Steve with his own romantic life, so perhaps this is just her warming up to me.

"Just a cover in missions," I dutifully answer, kicking my feet up on the bit of room between the two front seats. "Experimented a bit, but alas, I just couldn't muster an attraction to our own gender in the way that I can with men."

"Mm," she hums thoughtfully, turning those sharp eyes that relentlessly poke at you for answers onto Steve. "And you, Rogers?"

He briefly stumbles, puzzled. "And me what?"

"Ever kissed another man?"

"By the way he and Tony gaze longingly into each other's eyes that would have to be a yes," I intercept, snickering through the reprimanding glare sent my way by Steve in the rear-view mirror.

"No," he accentuates the answer, in a final tone. "I have not."

"Have you even kissed anyone since 1945?" The quick fire questions continue, Natasha really laying it on heavy. She must really be bored, not that I'm complaining, now that the questions aren't focused on me I'm finding this thoroughly entertaining.

"You ask like you think I haven't."

"I'm just wondering how much practice you've had."

"You don't need practice—"

"Everybody needs practice—"

"1945 was not the last time I kissed someone. I'm 95, not dead." By this point Steve is acting marginally defensive, but still taking the questions all in good sport.

I can't help but find myself curious as well though. It hadn't really occurred to me that he had maybe had a couple girlfriends or so after getting out of the ice. After all, he did fall for me, his enemy and a morally skewed assassin, so if I was an option then he mustn't' have been getting that much romantic attention elsewhere.

Who am I kidding, look at the man. He's a beef cake with an inspiring sense of moral right. Hell, because of him I'm trying to do better, to be better.

Ha, that's partially a lie. I still like breaking noses and pushing people's buttons for the fun of it. I'm a stubborn ass too, but you know, I've finally stopped killing people for a pretty penny, and this whole 'good guy' thing is more morally rewarding than being a hired assassin. So yeah, even if I didn't end up falling in love with America's Golden Boy, he still would be the best thing that happened to me. I do better because of him.

Right, that's enough sap for every tree in the Amazon rainforest. Moving on.

"Nobody special though?"

Even my ears perk up at this question, my hazel eyes glued to Steve fervently. Sure, in my mind he'll always be my man, but the hell if I'll be a home wrecker.

The chuckle that briefly escapes his lips is disbelieving. "Believe it or not it's kind of hard to find someone with shared life experience." Why Steve, I have no idea what you're talking about oh Captain my Captain. I don't know about you, but I happen to find lots of people who have been what I've been through.

Hm, probably shouldn't say that out loud.

Natasha shrugs off his reasoning quite easily. "Well, that's alright. You just make something up."

Steve sends her a look. "What like you?" And me. Yikes.

"I don't know. The truth is a matter of circumstance. It's not all things to all people all the time. Neither am I." I'm suddenly realising now just how much Natasha and I are really alike... and it's kind of scary.

Sympathy flashes across his face. "That's a tough way to live."

"It's a good way not to die, though."

"You know it's kind of hard to trust someone when you don't know who that someone really is." Annndd I felt that one. Ouch. It wasn't even directed at me.

"Yeah," Natasha agrees, but doesn't seem to be moved in her own perspective on the matter. They probably think I've drifted back to sleep now. "And you, Lilly?" Ah shit, never mind.

"Moi?" I ask, pointing innocently at myself and playing dumb.

"Anyone special in your life?" She elaborates, fully facing me over the head of her seat now. Even Steve is glimpsing into the rear-view mirror every so often, awaiting an answer.

My snort is as sceptical as Steve's previous chuckle. "Being able to control water and fire seems to put guys off for some strange reason. Haven't the faintest idea why. I'm such a joy to be around."

"No," she sarcastically replies in the low, even tone of hers. "You're telling me that charming and humble personality hasn't attracted any men? Appalling."

"Ha," I joke, half-heartedly glaring at her. "Fake laugh, hiding real pain."

"There's more to you Lilly," Steve intercedes after shooting Natasha a reprimanding look. I meet those baby blue eyes of his in the mirror, and find my sarcasm and wit momentarily gone as he once again floors me with such genuine concern and care. "If a man can't see that behind your wall of sarcasm and special abilities, then he's not worth it."

I struggle with words for a few seconds, the two of us just kind of staring at one another whenever he's not concentrated on the road. Tired, I smile a small smile. "Thanks Steve."

The enjoyable silence is once again short lived, thanks to an all-too nosy Natasha Romanoff. "Well, are you going to kiss, or leave me waiting in suspense?"

"He's driving, Nat," I remind her, before Steve can even get a word in. Tongue in cheek, I find my wit quickly falling back into place now that my stare off with Cap has come to an end, leaning forward and paying her extra attention to really sell the novelty of the act. "And anyway, I wouldn't cheat on you babe. There's no need to be so jealous. You're my one and only."

Another low chuckle on Rogers' behalf, but the Russian assassin takes her chance to poke more fun at Steve with the new opening I've given her. "I think I made him jealous when I kissed you earlier on."

My lips purse in thought as the two of our heads remain quite close to one another and stare at Steve analytically. He knows he's being ganged up on here. "Mm I think so too. Epic jealousy. Here I thought green was the colour of the big guy in your team."

The two of us smile whilst the super soldier shakes his head, knowing when he's been beat. The rest of the car trip is spent in relative silence, but even with my eyes closed as I doze off to sleep, I can feel the occasional glimpse of baby blue eyes in the reflection of the rear-view mirror.

A/N: Eyyy I'm not dead! Just on the inside.

Just wanted to say a HUGE thanks to all of the people who commented what a community means to them, there were quite a few so I didn't get around to replying to everyone but I read and used each one in my speech to the school (the school which I have now graduated from, yay, freedom) and I got quite the applause, all thanks to you guys. So, lotta love out to you. Really, thank you :)

Am I weaving Lillian into the CA:TWS well enough for you guys?? Or does it come off as forced? Feel free to leave your thoughts in the comments, as well as anything you might like to see Lillian do in this story line. Always love hearing from you guys!

Thanks for reading and that's all for now, bye! :) xxx

~ T.L