Rest

The train to the airport is more packed than she expected, yet she spots 47 almost immediately at the far end of the carriage. He's sitting close to the door, and despite the crowded carriage, the seat next to him is unoccupied.

The thought of sitting next to him in public is thrilling, but strangers sit next to each other all the time. Why should anybody care or think more of it?

She folds her cardigan in her lap after sitting down next to him, using it to shield her hands from view as she retrieves the USB stick from her purse and slides it into the pocket of 47's trousers. He nods subtly, confirming that he noticed it.

She feels strangely nervous; it's not just sitting together in public, it's also the strong urge to turn and simply look at him, admire her agent she sees so rarely in person these days.

He smells good, his aftershave so familiar yet somehow exciting. If only she could lean into him, feel his strong arms around her, close her eyes for a while.

It's not an option, sadly, and it'd be highly inappropriate even if they were away from prying eyes. She's aware that her dreams and fantasies about him have to stay exactly that.

They sit in silence, trying to look like two people who have never seen each other before and will never see each other again. They're good at this by now; started meeting in public after it became necessary to keep vital information from the ICA all those years ago, and kept doing it when it wasn't necessary anymore, only convenient at times and comforting at others.

The monotonous rumbling of the train makes it hard to stay alert, threatening to lull her to sleep, tired as she is after yet another day that started way too early and will end way too late.

She checks the time, still about an hour to go until they reach the airport and four hours until her flight. Maybe she should leave the train a little earlier, wait for the next one, avoid entering the airport at the same time.

47's head sinks against her shoulder, interrupting her thoughts. He must be more exhausted after his last mission and almost forty hours of travel than he let on; and now she is about to send him on the next mission without giving him time to recover...

She should take better care of him, she's responsible for his well-being after all.
Diana studies his face, even in sleep he looks incredibly tense and lonely.

Considering her options, she decides to change their plans; it doesn't take long to reschedule the flights, two days later should still be early enough for him to arrive in Las Vegas. She can work on the preparation remotely if needed, and the ICA stopped asking questions years ago. They know that she does what's necessary, and he is the agency's most valuable asset.

She's relieved to see that the small ICA safehouse close to the central station is unoccupied at the moment, so she books it for them for the next two days and receives the code for the locker containing the keys almost instantly.

Diana tucks her phone away. They look like a couple now anyway, so it can't hurt to wrap her arm around him and make sure he doesn't slip. It's harder than expected to resist the urge to lean her head against his.

Soon they reach their new destination, and she gently nudges him when it's time to gather their belongings.

He wakes up with a start, confused to see that they're not at the airport, and when he tells her he still sounds half asleep.

"Change of plans," she says quietly, "we're staying a few days longer."

He knows better than to ask questions while they're surrounded by people, so he just nods and rubs his face.

Diana smiles at him as they're waiting for the doors to open. He wants to carry her suitcase as well, now that they're apparently posing as a couple, but she feels safer when he has at least one hand free. You never know what's around the corner.

47 follows her to the underground hall of the station, where she pulls her phone out again to find the locker number and the code to open it.

Keys to their safehouse in her hand, Diana turns to him and smiles.

"Come," she says, slinging her arm around his waist, "it's just two streets away from here. Do you think you can walk or should I call us a taxi?"

"I'm not injured," he murmurs. "Where are we going?"

"You're exhausted, 47. You need to rest."

He nods and allows her to lead him out of the building and into the sunny afternoon.

She catches their reflection in a window, they really look like a couple returning from a holiday, they look like they belong together. The thought touches something in her chest, she feels content and terrified at the same time.

He takes her suitcase while she's unlocking the door, and he insists on carrying it upstairs for her.

The safehouse really is small; only one room and a tiny bathroom, a small kitchenette that's just sufficient enough to make coffee and unpack fast food deliveries, but it is enough for now.

"There's only one bed," he says after placing their suitcases out of the way.

She nods and opens the window and closes the blinds. Thankfully it's facing the back alley and not the main road; the hint of summer air and the busy humming of the city are soothing, and suddenly she can't wait to lie down and close her eyes.

When she looks back at him, he's still rooted next to their suitcases, unsure what to do, so she decides to lead by example.
Turning her back to give him some privacy, she begins to undress; stepping out of her shoes and her navy skirt, unhooking her bra without removing her simple black t-shirt, undoing her bun.
She climbs into bed, scooting over to the wall to give him enough room to join, and looks up expectantly at 47, who only just finished unbuttoning his shirt.

In the darkened room it's hard to tell if he's blushing, if he's hesitating out of embarrassment or if he doesn't want to share the bed with her.

47 removes his shirt, and she tries not to stare, but he is simply beautiful, and she doesn't have too many opportunities to see him up close like this.

Still, it feels like overstepping, so she decides to busy herself with fluffing up the pillow as he's removing his trousers to climb into bed only in his briefs.

She smiles at him, even though she's not sure if he can see it, and draws the blanket over him. He's so warm and alive, and she barely manages to suppress a sigh.

It's nice to have him close like this, and she doesn't mind having to share the only pillow and blanket with him.
Diana tries to convince herself that this has nothing to do with his strong arms and his stunning blue eyes and the way he smiles only for her, but she knows she's losing this fight.

"Sleep well, my 47," she whispers in his ear and kisses his cheek, but he's already asleep, because he trusts her and knows that he is safe.

Diana hopes to stay awake a while longer to enjoy this stolen little moment, but she drifts off to sleep too soon.