Author's Note: I started this fiction over on livejournal last summer based on a gifset and some hearty pleas from the awesome fans over at ontd_assemble. I've very rudely let it trail off, so I'm posting it here as motivation to keep updating. Read, review, and enjoy!

It was business as usual for Natasha-read the file, memorize the information, start the mission.

It was relatively simple. The typical undercover gig: assumed identity, a short-term stay in some new city with a partner watching her back.

Fury had asked her to introduce Rogers to spy work, and it seemed he intended to throw him into the deep end, head-first-Rogers was to accompany her, acting as her husband.

It wasn't a hard job-she could handle working and training simultaneously-but she couldn't imagine Rogers acting. He was so honest and wholesome. It was precious and sort of quaint, in Natasha's opinion, but he was hardly spy material. He was a soldier though-and-through.

Like Clint.

Well. Maybe she could work with that.

She skimmed the folder a second time and glanced up at Captain Rogers. His brow was furrowed as he read; he looked serious and concerned and earnest as hell. He looked up at Fury, who glared back expectantly. "Question, Captain?"

"Well, Sir," Rogers began nervously, and Natasha could see the blush rising in his cheeks already. "If Miss-Agent Romanoff and I are supposed to be a married couple...does that mean we're meant to share a house? And...a bed?"

"Cap, behind closed doors I'm sure you can have your own bed," Fury said sardonically. "But yes, you will be living with Agent Romanoff for the duration of the mission."

Rogers looked uncomfortable. He glanced at Natasha. "Agent Romanoff, um, I don't want you to feel compromised in your, uh, modesty. If we share quarters, I mean." He stopped, looking unsure of how to proceed.

Only Natasha's extensive spy training could maintain her (rather impressive) poker face in this moment. "Captain Rogers. This is hardly my first rodeo. And please," She put a hand on his wrist and looked straight into his eyes. "My modesty is definitely not a concern. Although I appreciate your respect for my personal space and comfort." She did mean it-it was nice to be treated like a lady now and again, rather than a sexless agent or a femme fatale.

He blushed (predictably) and nodded, smiling sheepishly. Natasha wondered briefly if he was a virgin, or if it was just his old-school values that made him uncomfortable with the idea of living with a woman he's not married to. Both, probably, her mind supplied.

They returned the files to Fury and Captain Rogers paused to open the door for Natasha. In the hall, she could feel him behind her, clearly working his nerve up to say something.

"Miss R-Agent Romanoff," He started nervously. "I mean no disrespect to you in the least-you're a beautiful and capable lady," She could practically hear him wince-clearly he had wanted to say something less personal. "But I have to tell you. I never really planned on living with a woman who wasn't my wife, and..." The end hung there lamely, full of uncertainty and discomfort at how his antiquated (if well-meant) values fit into this twenty-first century world.

Natasha paused with her back to him and felt him tense behind her. She almost felt guilty; she hadn't dug him out of the ice and reanimated him personally, of course, but she couldn't help but feel bad at the sheer culture shock and disorientation Rogers must be feeling. Not to mention the fact that everyone he's ever loved is much I can sympathize with.

"Well, Captain," She said as she strode away. "You have nothing to worry about. As of next Tuesday at oh-six-hundred hours, I am your wife."