18-year old Natasha Romanoff dabbed at a stray spot of lipstick on the left corner of her mouth. She closely examined her smoky eyes and extended lashes, searching for flaws. The first step tonight was making sure her appearance was perfect, and she'd taken every measure to ensure this.
She buried her hands in the soft fabric of her midnight blue evening dress, noting that it was probably the most beautiful thing she'd ever worn. Her long red hair was done up in an elegant style adorned with sparkling pins, and the fancy shoes she wore would no doubt give her blisters as soon as they set foot in the ballroom.
She heard the door open behind her and whirled around. "Finally. How is it that I'm a woman and yet I'm always ready before you?"
Agent Barton strolled in carelessly, his tuxedo looking prime and proper and his dress shoes clicking cheerfully on the floor. "We both know I need a lot more work than you, Tasha."
She inwardly scowled. He'd started using nicknames to address her about two months ago, and she couldn't get him to stop. She'd recently begun ignoring him in an attempt to make him think it didn't bother her anymore, but she was finding it increasingly difficult to hide her irritation.
Agent Coulson came entered the room next. Natasha felt she was being generous by calling it a room; it was more of a hallway, intended as a final point of briefing before agents set off on a mission.
"Robert and Megan Strong." Coulson stated, and the two younger agents nodded. "I trust you've worked out your past histories, but remember to only give details when you need to. We don't need the whole mission ruined because one of you said basketball and the other said football."
Natasha shut her eyes in impatience. They'd been reminded of this at least three times on the plane.
"Michael Osborne has arranged for all of his guests to stay in a nearby hotel after the party. His hotel will be down the block, but he'll arrive at yours tomorrow morning to host a breakfast. Get as much information as you can while you're undercover, but if you find an opportunity to get him alone, take it and get him back here."
They nodded again.
"Okay, this is where I say goodbye and good luck. You still have a few minutes to prepare if you need them." The older man left, and Natasha immediately faced the boy beside her.
"What's my maiden name?"
"Turner." Barton answered without hesitation.
"Occupations?"
"You're a middle school English teacher and I'm a dentist." They'd decided on the jobs because they were unsuspicious; they'd gained favor with the group at the party through family connections and not wealth.
"What colleges did we graduate from?" They threw questions at each other rapid-fire style, slowly growing confident that the other had done all of his or her homework.
Finally Natasha checked the time and straightened up. "We should get going."
Barton reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny plastic bag that held two rings. "How long have we been married?"
"Two months today." Natasha said, accepting the ring he gave her. "Should we put them on each other?"
Barton stared at her for a moment before he realized she was joking. Natasha Romanoff joked about as much as a mime talked, but more and more she seemed to be developing a sense of humor. Even if it was a little off.
He chuckled as they put the matching wedding bands on and finally emerged outside. Natasha pulled her shawl tighter around her bare shoulders and immediately took Barton's hand.
They passed the two blocks' worth of walking in idle conversation, both completely in character. They'd practiced this easy way of talking for three hours during the flight to Florida, and it was paying off.
They finally arrived at an impressive-looking building with at least five limousines parked out front, and Natasha felt grateful that they were portraying a more middle-class couple. She hated being enclosed in cars with tinted windows.
They ascended the red-carpeted steps and a man with a clipboard looked them over. "Name?"
"Robert Strong. This is my wife, Megan."
The bearded man waved them through to the lobby, where a multitude of people were already engaging each other in conversation.
Natasha had played one of those people before, but tonight she was to look intimidated at the richness of the materials around her. She and Barton hesitantly approached the table in the center of the room, where a blonde woman smiled kindly at them. "Names?"
"Robert and Megan Strong." Barton answered again.
The woman handed them two place cards and a key. "You're at table ten, and Mr. Osborne has booked a room for you in the hotel in case you can't drive home, or are just having too much fun to leave." She winked, and Natasha smiled broadly at her fake spouse.
"Oh, how nice!" she gushed about what a nice man Mr. Osborne was, pretending she'd had no idea about the hotel room, and Barton looked at her with admiring eyes.
They entered the grand ballroom, casting their eyes about the ceiling to take in the grandeur. Natasha had been in several high-class operations before, but she had to admit the room was impressive. The walls were a soothing cream color with floor-to-ceiling windows that held a spectacular view of the surrounding landscape. If this were a simple assassination mission, it would already be over. Even she could have made a kill shot as effective as Hawkeye's through these windows.
She felt a little bad for Barton. Undercover missions were her specialty, not his. But the day he brought her back to SHIELD his job specialty had changed from "master archer" to "Black Widow's babysitter." The first year of her capture she'd spent training and earning the agency's trust until Barton's begging on her part had finally gotten her out into the field. Solo missions were more common for her, as anyone Fury tried to partner with the former Russian spy flat-out refused the work. She'd actually witnessed him fire two people for their adamant refusals, and Natasha had stood in the corner and watched impassively.
It hurt her, deep down in her soul where she hid the emotions she just couldn't quite get rid of. She understood their distrust, but surely they knew that the life she'd been born into wasn't her choice. But coming to Shield was a decision entirely her own, and she worked hard to earn her place there. Still, no one went near her in the halls, or said hello in the morning, or gave her the time of day if she asked.
No one except Barton.
He'd trusted her since day one, when he disobeyed a direct order to put her down and instead took her back with him to meet Fury. It was a dangerous, incredibly stupid, irresponsible move, and no one understood why he'd done it. She often wondered if he even knew why he didn't kill her.
She'd asked him why once and he'd just blinked and walked away. She hadn't bothered asking again, no matter how much she wanted to know. And now, on dual mission number five, she still wanted to know. She was even warming to the term "partners," since it was unlikely that she'd be working directly with anyone else in the near future. And she could admit that they worked well together. Every training session and mission helped them to study each other's favorite moves and greatest skills. This information alone meant that he probably knew her better than anyone else, regardless of how little they knew about one another's personal lives.
This chapter and the next were originally one document, but I split it into two chapters because it was too long. So that's why there's such an awkward cut off. I'll post the next chapter in three or four days. Thanks for reading!