Peter slumped against the workbench, web-shooter parts scattered across the table. His eyes were tired, shadowed by self-doubt. “I just…I’m not him, Nat. Everyone expects me to be Tony, but I’m just Peter Parker. How do I even begin to be the next Iron Man?”
Natasha sighed gently, leaning against the bench beside him, folding her arms as she studied him. “Pete, you’re never going to be Tony. No one expects you to replace him. You’re you—smart, brave, and completely capable in your own right. Tony trusted you for a reason.”
Peter hesitated, eyes searching hers for reassurance. “You really believe that?”
She nudged his shoulder affectionately, voice softer now. “I do. Trust me, kid, nobody has everything figured out. Not even me.”
The first attack came on a crowded Manhattan street just after rush hour. Natasha sensed the danger moments before it happened, pushing Peter down as a van screeched to a halt beside them, doors flying open. Enemy spies poured out, weapons blazing with deadly precision.
“Get behind the cars!” Natasha shouted, already diving forward, her movements fluid as she disarmed the nearest assailant. Peter flipped into action, heart hammering. His webs flew instinctively, snaring guns, binding wrists, and sending enemies sprawling.
“Behind you!” Peter yelled as Natasha spun gracefully, sweeping an attacker’s legs out from beneath him. Her punches were precise, calculated, each blow expertly aimed to incapacitate without killing.
When the dust settled, Natasha smirked slightly, catching her breath. “You’re better than you think, Peter.”
Peter managed a shaky smile, breathless but exhilarated. “I learned from the best.”
Evenings at Natasha’s place turned oddly comforting, punctuated by playful banter and questionable culinary experiments. Tonight, the kitchen smelled faintly of smoke, a pan full of misshapen pancakes sizzling ominously.
“Did Clint teach you to cook?” Peter joked, poking at the pancakes suspiciously.
Natasha scowled in mock offense. “You should see Clint’s pizza—it sets off smoke alarms regularly.”
Peter snorted. “Maybe Yelena can cook better?”
Natasha raised an eyebrow. “Believe me, Yelena’s worse. She once burned cereal.”
Peter laughed openly, dodging the playful punch Natasha aimed at his arm. “Families embarrass each other, right?”
“Exactly,” Natasha replied, grinning widely. “And don’t you forget it.”
The second attack erupted in Tony Stark’s old lab, alarms blaring like a panicked heartbeat. Peter barely had time to process Natasha’s urgent shout—“It’s a trap!”—before enemy spies stormed inside, firing with ruthless precision.
“We need a plan!” Peter shouted, diving behind a metal cabinet as bullets ricocheted.
“Keep them busy,” Natasha instructed, swiftly moving along the shadows. Peter nodded, webs shooting in rapid succession, tangling limbs and weapons. Natasha struck like lightning from behind, incapacitating their foes with precision and speed.
As silence returned, Peter sagged against the wall, breathless but exhilarated. “We made it.”
“You did good, Parker,” Natasha praised warmly. “Real teamwork.”
Peter smiled, pride blooming within him. “Couldn’t do it without you.”
Natasha surprised everyone, including herself, by attending Peter’s academic decathlon competitions and bringing Yelena along Their offbeat cheers echoing loudly through the auditorium.
“Please sit further away next time,” Peter groaned afterward, cheeks bright red but smiling shyly.
“Not a chance,” Natasha laughed heartily, ruffling his hair. “You’re stuck with me.”
Peter shook his head fondly, heart warmed by the unexpected affection. “I guess that’s okay.”
Yelena looked happy but puzzled. "This is what families do?"
There was no confusion in Natasha's smile. "This is what families do." she confirmed
One quiet night, exhaustion weighing heavy, Peter finally spoke about his hidden fears. “Nat, sometimes… sometimes I feel like I’m failing everyone. I’m scared all the time.”
Natasha paused, setting down her coffee carefully. Her eyes softened as she reached out, placing a gentle hand on his. “Peter, fear doesn’t make you weak. It makes you human. Even heroes have their fears—I know I do.”
Peter blinked, swallowing hard. “Really?”
“Every day,” Natasha admitted quietly. “Fear reminds us what we have to lose. It’s why we fight so hard.”
Peter awkwardly confessed his romantic misadventures one evening, prompting Natasha and Happy to share increasingly embarrassing dating stories.
“I once dated someone who turned out to be a double agent,” Natasha confessed casually.
Happy snorted, amused. “Tony once set me up on a date with a reporter who wanted Avengers gossip. I spent two hours hiding in the bathroom.”
Natasha leaned forward expectedly. "C'mon kid, what dating horror stories do you have?"
Peter grimaced and hesitated. Eventually he grinned sheepishly and hung his head. "I once had a date with someone I really liked. Like, awkward blushing levels of cute! But it turns out she really just wanted the car Tony got me for my last birthday."
"So?" Happy asked unimpressed.
"So when I came out of the bathroom my date was gone and so was Tony's car!" Peter laughed until tears sprang to his eyes, finally feeling at ease. “Guess my love life’s not so bad after all.”
“Not yet,” Natasha smirked. “Give it time.”
The next attack at Tony’s old lab was swift and brutal. Enemy spies rushed in, aiming weapons directly at Peter, but Natasha was faster.
“We’ve got this, kid,” she reassured him as she dodged a hailstorm of bullets. Peter moved fluidly, deflecting attacks and immobilizing enemies. Natasha’s strikes were quick, precise, and ruthless, protecting Peter as he matched her rhythm flawlessly.
“You did good,” Natasha said afterward, breathing heavily but smiling proudly. “Tony would be proud.”
Peter beamed, feeling warmth bloom in his chest. “Thanks to you.”
At Tony’s gravesite, Natasha stood silently beside Peter, watching him closely. After a moment, she gently squeezed his shoulder.
“Tony would be proud of you,” she whispered sincerely, emotion thickening her voice. “I’m proud of you.”
Peter glanced at her, eyes glistening with gratitude and affection. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“You’re stronger than you know,” Natasha smiled softly. “And you’re not alone. We’re family now.”
“Family,” Peter repeated quietly, smiling at the warmth that spread through him. It felt real, honest, and true—exactly what he needed.
They stood together, bonded by shared battles and quiet moments, ready to face whatever came next.