James pulled out her chair before taking his own. "They've got a Branzino Almondine tonight. I heard good reviews about it, a specialty it seems."
Hill's lips curved, amused. "Branzino Almondine, sea bass served with a buttery almond sauce. It's something I've wanted to try when I saw this place. A limited item that was hard to get."
She had been smiling all evening, and for once, James couldn't find anything false in it. Just a woman, enjoying the night.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"I guess we could say, if we are together, we become lucky to be able to enjoy something like this." James said.
Maria tilted her head. "I don't know. Tonight's only the first time. Maybe it's just a coincidence."
"Our profession doesn't believe in coincidences."
Before she could reply, the waiter arrived with two menus. James closed his without looking. "Since we're eating French, I'd like to know what the chef recommends for us. What's his focus tonight?"
High-end chefs carried their own pride. The waiter didn't hesitate to give his recommendations.
"Since you've reserved the Branzino Almondine.
As a starter, I recommend the Chilled Pea Soup with crab—fresh and light, it sets the palate beautifully for the main dish without being full.
The Main will be the Branzino Almondine you have reserved for the night.
And for dessert, a Crème Brûlée with seasonal berries—a classic touch of indulgence without overpowering the delicate flavors of your main.
For the Wine pairing—a crisp Sancerre (Loire Valley Sauvignon Blanc), its minerality and citrus cut through the richness of the almond butter and enhance the branzino's flaky sweetness."
James glanced across the table. "Maria?"
She gave a nod. "Sounds good to me."
[Cortana: Data cross-check confirms preference. Maria Hill favors foie gras.]
James took the opportunity with Cortana's suggestion. "Could you add the foie gras parfait as part of the starter? the parfait's silken and delicate taste—would truly satisfy our palate."
The waiter noted it and left.
Traditional French meals could run through a dozen courses, but no one wanted that now. Romance required pacing, not gluttony. Four or five courses would be plenty.
The sommelier approached with the chilled Sancerre, the bottle cradled in his hand like something fragile.
He presented the label for James's approval, then cut the foil cleanly below the lip and eased the cork free with a soft sigh.
Placing it on a small silver tray, he offered it forward. James picked it up, rolling the cork gently between his fingers.
He wasn't searching for flavor—just for condition. Dry, intact, with no hint of crumbling or seepage: the bottle had been well kept.
He gave a slight nod. The sommelier decanted the pale wine into crystal, letting it breathe while releasing its mineral edge. Two goblets were set, one filled with water to clear the palate. James poured first for Maria, then for himself.
"To what?" he asked, lifting his glass.
She thought for a beat. "To your work going smoothly."
James smirked. "Work? In this atmosphere? I'll toast to that. Then to working together." They touched glasses. The wine was crisp, mineral, and bright with citrus—perfectly balanced.
He leaned back, eyes on her. "So tell me, why this job? Not exactly common for women. Honestly, you look more like you belonged on a fashion runway."
Her smile cooled a little. "That's a long story."
"We have time," James said. "Dinner hasn't even started."
The conversation uncoiled easily after that. Plates arrived one by one, wine glasses touched between them, and Maria talked—careful, but genuine. She was proud of her career, though she never lost her guarded edge. James pressed gently on the conversation, listening more than speaking, letting her fill the silence with pieces of herself.
By the time dessert was finished, the mood had shifted. She was relaxed, still alert, but enjoying herself. James settled the bill and they stepped out into the Washington evening.
He opened the car door for her. She hesitated for a moment before slipping in.
Inside, James tested the waters. "I spent the afternoon cleaning my apartment. You want to take a look? Could use a second opinion."
Her pause was brief. "Alright. Let's see how good your taste is."
Back at his place, James handed her slippers as she stepped in. "Not bad, right? A bachelor space. Simple decoration, but it works."
The eighty-square-meter apartment was stripped down—bedroom, small living room, and compact kitchen. He'd kept it clean, orderly, with nothing left lying around.
Maria looked around with a smile. "I'm impressed. Didn't think you'd bother to decorate this much."
James cut some fruit, poured juice, and set them on the table. She raised an eyebrow. "I thought you'd break out the wine."
"We're agents," James said evenly. "I don't believe you to get drunk on duty. Besides, juice is better anyway."
That earned him a faint laugh. They sat, talking over the day, trading stories that edged between professional wariness and personal wear. Beneath the polished exterior, Maria showed cracks of fatigue—workload, ambition, the toll of a career lived at constant readiness. James caught it. That was his opening.
(18+ scene available on Patreon)
The night passed.
The morning sun slipped through the curtains. James stirred as the sound of running water came from the bathroom. He knocked gently. "You're up early."
Her voice came muffled through the door. "I need to change before work. You've got the day off. Go ahead and sleep in."
"No no it's fine, I'll drive you home," James said, already pulling on casual clothes. "You can eat in the car to save time."
He moved into the kitchen, stacked a quick set of sandwiches and a carton of milk. When she stepped out, heels in hand, Maria shook her head with a half-smile. "You're too considerate. Whoever ends up with you will be lucky."
James smiled faintly. He could hear the subtext. Her focus wasn't on him—it was the job. She was a Level Nine agent, Fury's deputy, marked for command of the helicarrier. Career first, everything else second. That was her reality, and he respected it.
"Strong woman or not, you still need a ride home. Let's go."
They ate in the car as he drove her back. At her building she paused, looking at him. "This stays between us."
"Of course."
She disappeared inside, leaving James alone with the morning light.
[Cortana: Analysis complete. Subject prioritizes career advancement. Affection present, but secondary. Future interaction likely dependent on operational overlap.]
James didn't answer. He drove off, stomach finally reminding him of its own needs. A fast-food joint that offered apple pies and black coffee. He parked, leaned back in the seat, and let the taste fully wake him. Another morning. Another mission waiting just beyond the peace and quiet.