UNDERCOVER ⧗ BLACKHILL

Touchdown - 28

(Natasha's POV)
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After what is quite literally almost a day in airports and flying, we finally are on the tarmac in Paris. I never thought I'd leave New York, forget the country. Maria's been so amazing during all of this, showing me the ways and shortcuts of airports. They're so big, I could never imagine how people do this alone all the time.

There's a huge sign plastered across the top near the baggage area, Bienvenue à Paris (Welcome to Paris).
Maria pronounces this, and it sounds so elegant. Now, I wouldn't know, but it sounds like perfect pronunciation to me. A few people around us turn, so I guess it was right.

"And when did you learn French?" I ask, sounding sarcastic.
"Known it for a while actually," she replies. "Never used it, just thought it sounded pretty."
"Sounds even prettier from you," I compliment, giving her a quick kiss. We continue to walk to our baggage claim, waiting for the baggage to show up on the carousel.

"How long does this take?" I ask, looking at the growing number of people around us.
"Usually 10 or so minutes, depends on the airport, business level, blah blah blah."
I let out a little chuckle at her explanation, making sense of everything in my head.

Luckily it doesn't take long before there's a loud buzz, which Marci explains to me that means the carousel is going to start moving, and the luggage is going to start going around.

"What if someone doesn't get theirs?" I question.
"Like if they don't show up or get it when it goes around?"
"Either," I say, my voice rising a little at the end not knowing what I meant myself.
"Well, if they don't show up, it'll get out to the side somewhere in a office. If they don't get it here when it's going around, see where it goes back?" she points to the other end of the thing.

"Yes."
"It goes around and around, it'll go around a few times before they stop it and take it to an office."
"Ohhhh," I say in realization, understanding how it works. I can't imagine the backup if one thing gets mixed up. That'll throw off other airports too in the process.

"Oh look there's ours," Marci points to the next bags coming out, as we watch them make the way over to us.
As they come around, we grab them off the carousel and begin to make our way through more people until we get outside to the taxi area.
Maria calls over a taxi, who helps us get our bags in the trunk. I've decided to let her do the talking, she seems to be the one who knows enough French to get around. Me, I know 0.
"Hôtel le 37, s'il vous plait." (Hotel on 37, please)

The driver understands the directions, and pulls out into what I guess is normal airport traffic. There's cars everywhere obviously, and horns going off left and right at who knows what. Understandably, though, people have been flying for a long time and they want to get out of here.

Around 10 minutes later, we pull into this luxurious hotel, and a bellman greets us, taking the bags onto a luggage carrier thing.
Marci hands the cab driver the fare as he pulls out, and the bellman a tip for getting our bags. While she can speak the language, it's still clear we're tourists. That's ok though, because I have her.

The inside is even more stunning, everything having intricate details engraved, all the furniture and fixtures being the highest of high end. Everyone is in a uniform, perfectly ironed out so there are no wrinkles. Perfect posture, everything you could think of.

Before I know it, we are checked in and Marci hands me a room key with our room number on it.
3517
I audibly gulp, seeing the number.
"Yep, 35th floor," Marci confirms, seeing the first two numbers herself.

We make our way over to the elevator, a few people getting in with us. There's 35 buttons, which I don't understand how we're on the top. What are the chances of that? Marci presses the buttons for everyone's floor, us being the highest so we watch the people slowly dwindle.

Eventually, the elevator gets to our floor, and we step out, looking at the signs for directions to our room. We head to the right, and make a turn as it's past the end of a hallway. I don't know why the numbers are counting down instead of up, but I wasn't the one who built this place.

Marci enters the room key in front of the detector, and as the light goes green, she pushes open the door, holding it so I can also get in.
"Woah, this room is huge," I look around in awe.
"Well this is what a suite looks like baby," she looks back at me, while I only picked up on the new nickname.
"Baby?"
"Yes," she smiles, apparently happy I picked up on that.

"Come here," she takes my hand gently, leading me across the room, which has a mini kitchen, living room, and a bedroom area. There's floor to ceiling windows on the other side, the curtains over them.
"Pull them back," she instructs, to which I look at her a little doubtfully, but do so anyway.

"No, stop-" I stare at the sight in front of me in awe. "How?" I ask. "A room in front of the Eiffel Tower?"
"Only for you," she smiles, to which I can only pull her in for a kiss.
"I've never even left New York, forget the country, and now I'm staring at the Eiffel Tower," I confirm, this all seems to good to be true.
"Yes you are," she laughs a little, knowing how surprised I am. "Only the best for you."

"It's so pretty," I reach up my hand in the air, tracing the figure out in front of me. It's all lit up, standing taller than anything around it.
"I've never seen it before today either," she also stares in awe at it.
"Well, glad I get to do it with you then," I smile, leaning my head on her shoulder.

"I love you," I say quietly, not processing the fact that I've said those words.
"I love you too," Marci repeats, as we continue to stare into the night.

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A/N:  2 more :) anywaysssss Paris! I've always wanted to go there myself. And the I love you 🥹