He picks her up at HQ, her bag packed and safely in the trunk. They've been talk about it for a few weeks; getting away from the city together, going out to the beach.

But she's been on mission after mission after mission, days and weeks blurring together as he putters around their empty apartment and works on his certs. This last one hasn't gone well; Hill called in the sitrep when Natasha's plane landed, let him know the score. So he was there to pick her up , bundle her, sleepy and soft, into the passenger seat, and drive, soft music and rushing wind, out to the house.

"Hey," he breathes, when he pulls in to the driveway. "Baby, we're here."