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Rogers stared at her. “You want me to...change how I write?”

“Mmm, you can still use a pen,” Natasha said. “But yes, I'm recommending you change it.”

He was still staring at her with the deep, deep confusion of a man who had only read about spies in pulps and comics. “Why,” he said. It was more a statement than a question.

“Because while your handwriting is very beautiful, it looks like someone's eighty-year-old grandmother wrote it,” she said bluntly. “Which is fine for personal letters. Not so fine for anyone else reading it. It's a tell, Steve. And that's dangerous.”

“Natasha, I appreciate that you are trying-”

“It also confuses the tiny agents.”

“-to help, wait. Excuse me?”

“The tiny, modern agents who process most of our paperwork. They can't read it. A lot of the operatives can't read that style of cursive, either. If you need to leave someone a handwritten note, I suggest making sure they can read it be a priority,” she said.

It was probably mean to enjoy tripping him up, but confusing Captain America was rapidly becoming the highlight of her day. It was good for him not to be constantly coddled.

You can read it,” Rogers pointed out.

“I can do many things. C'mon, Steve. For the sake of the interns?”

“...Fine. Only for the sake of the interns.”

Then she smiled. “Okay. There are plenty of books to help. And now, we need to get back to freerunning.”

As they headed out, he glanced at her. “Beautiful, grandmother handwriting, huh?”

“I thought it sounded better than 'adorable'.”

“Ouch,” he said, but he was smiling as he said it.

Note to self: Steve Rogers responds well to casual insults and light sarcasm, she thought, and smiled back.

Maybe this partnership wouldn't be so bad after all.