Chapter 3
“Okay, so you’re just going to lay low in here for a little while?” Peter wore a blue sweater, and black jeans with his gray sneakers. His backpack was slung over his shoulder, and he stood in the doorway, looking around his room. Natasha sat on his bed, wearing her black jacket and blue jeans, which were rid of the dirt stains from the previous night. Her long red hair was tied back in a braid, and her blue contacts gone, leaving only her glittering green eyes. The purple bruise on her jaw was more prominent than ever.
“Yeah, I’m good,” she responded. “I gave you my phone number, right?”
Peter held up his phone. “Yep.”
She nodded, and reminded him, “Call me if you run into trouble. I’ll be there.”
“Got it.”
She smiled. “Good. Don’t fail your test.”
“No promises.” And with that, Peter closed the door behind him, and marched out of his apartment.
Natasha sighed. She was alone in the small home, as May had gone to work. And she had absolutely nothing to do besides wait for Peter to come back home. It was definitely too dangerous for her to go outside, so the only circumstance in which she would leave was if Peter was in trouble. But she was confident that wouldn’t happen. She had seen firsthand the ease in which he had taken out the robber. He was a force to be reckoned with.
In addition, the kid was enthusiastic, friendly, and actually seemed to like her, which was a nice change. And now that he was gone, she felt a little lonely. Stop, she scolded herself. You don’t get lonely. You’ve been alone for months.
But she couldn’t shake the feeling of affection and protectiveness for Peter. She’d known him less than twenty-four hours! This was weird. And stupid. Whatever she had been thinking at 3 a.m. that morning was pointless and not like her.
She shook her head. She couldn’t get attached, not when she was a fugitive. Especially because she knew Tony Stark was very protective of this kid. She had seen on the news that everybody wanted to know the true identity of the famous Spider-Man. Natasha had been curious about it herself. Tony, always in the public eye, was frequently asked about the popular webslinger, and he had adamantly refused to expose Peter.
He would never be okay with Natasha even having a conversation with his kid.
Peter resisted the urge to pound his forehead against his desk. He looked to his left. MJ was doodling absentmindedly on a sheet of paper, making no effort to appear interested in the history lesson. She probably knew it all, anyway.
Unfortunately, she seemed to sense his eyes on her, and his eyes shot to the whiteboard as MJ studied him.
Peter kept his eyes pointedly on the whiteboard, though somehow still not processing anything the teacher was saying. He flinched suddenly, his spider-sense alerting him of something coming. He turned, and MJ’s small wad of paper hit him square in the eye.
He made a face at her. What?
She lifted her paper to show him her drawing, a smug grin on her face. It was him. Or at least, a crude, pencil-drawn sketch of him. With a big frown on his face, too.
He did a little shrug with his shoulders, indicating that he was confused. MJ made a big show of heaving her shoulders in exasperation, then wrote something quickly on the paper. When she held it up, Peter could see that she had scrawled, I like drawing people in a crisis.
Peter tilted his head in agreement, then fished out his own blank piece of paper. He quickly wrote, is it that obvious? As soon as he held it up, he cringed on the inside. Why did he have to be so awkward?
But it was too late. MJ was already writing something in response. yes. She hesitated. Then, why’d you quit band?
Peter: just got tired of it. other stuff to deal with
MJ: you’re not going to ask why I care?
Peter: nope
MJ: k then
Neither of them said anything for a few long moments. Then, MJ leaned over her paper and started writing again. She held it up. what class do you have next?
Peter wrote his response, then showed it to MJ. spanish
MJ: ugh that class is bs
Peter: very. I have a test today
MJ: :(
Peter: big sad :(
MJ: say something in spanish
Peter: like out loud?
MJ: yes
MJ: NONONO
MJ: why tf would i be serious just write it
Peter: hola
MJ: wow that’s so impressive I don’t think I could do that
Peter: ikr
MJ: I have science next
Peter: best subject hands down
MJ: eh every part of school sucks equally
“Mr. Parker, did you hear the question?” His teacher’s sharp tone yanked Peter unceremoniously back to reality.
He blinked. “I’m sorry, could you repeat the question?”
“What countries participated in the Yalta Conference?”
“Uh, the United States, Britain, and Russia,” Peter replied easily.
“Well done. Next time, make sure you’re paying attention.”
“Yes, sir.”
To his left, Peter watched as MJ folded up her piece of paper, and flashed him a quick smile that he would have missed if he had blinked. Then she pulled out a new sheet, and started doodling. She was so quick about it that she even missed Peter’s awkward grin in response.
Natasha woke up, bleary eyed, to the sound of her phone ringing.
Yes, she had fallen asleep. She had to admit, she needed it. Being on the run from one hundred and seventeen different countries didn’t leave much time for relaxation. But now, she scrambled across the room, and accepted Peter’s call.
“Hey, Natasha?” Peter’s voice crackled over the phone.
“Yeah?” she replied quickly.
“Yeah, just figured I’d update you, school is finished and I’m going on patrol.”
“Oh, great. How’d your test go?”
“Good, I think,” came Peter’s cheerful response. “How’ve you been doing?”
“Oh, it’s been kind of boring, but you know, it’s nice to be able to relax for once…”
“Yeah, yeah sure. Cool.”
“Well, I guess I’ll be seeing you.”
Natasha stifled her laughter as she heard the clatter of Peter’s phone falling to the concrete. Peter’s “Oh, crap-” sounded far off.
Then Peter’s voice came again, “Sorry, dropped my phone.”
“I heard.”
“Aren’t you glad I’m the one protecting the neighborhood?”
“Couldn’t be in steadier—I mean safer—hands.”
Peter snorted. “Ha. I’ll see you later.”
“Good luck.”
“Bye.”
And he hung up. Natasha looked down at her phone, slightly dejected. Alone again. She wasn’t one to sit around all day, but unfortunately, that’s exactly what she was doing. She tucked her phone into her pocket, sighed, and headed into the living room area, grabbing the TV remote. She flicked the power button, and the news came on. She draped herself across the couch, and watched.
The spy spent a long while just sitting there, not really registering what they were talking about. She saw a few mentions of Spider-Man, but nothing else caught her eye until her own picture came on screen.
She sat up abruptly. There she was, her picture from Vienna, at the signing of the Accords. Sitting down, looking seriously ahead of her. She was wearing her indigo jacket, her bright red hair in those flowing waves. Her hands were clasped on the desk in front of her. That must have been just minutes before the bomb blew the place to hell, she realized.
“Natasha Romanoff,” the news anchor was saying seriously. “A fugitive from justice. The Russian Avenger has been on the run from the law for several months now. She escaped custody after she violated the Sokovia Accords in Berlin, and attacked King T’Challa of Wakanda. Wakanda, a small, third-world country, was a fundamental part of the Accords.”
Natasha propped her chin in her palm, listening and watching intently as footage of Lagos and Vienna played.
“Secretary of State Thaddeus Ross has recently reported that Romanoff was seen here in Queens. He confirmed that after being confronted by his men, the spy resisted arrest. Her current whereabouts are unknown. Let us remind you all that Romanoff is a very dangerous person, and should not be confronted alone. If you see her, report it immediately. Your safety is our top priority.”
Natasha rubbed her face in her hands, groaning. Great. Now everyone was after her. Again. She knew it would happen as soon as she took down Ross’s thugs, but still. This was an unnecessary and annoying predicament. And what would Tony think? Would he try to find her? He was definitely still angry with her.
All of a sudden, she didn’t feel like watching the news anymore. She stood up, clicked the TV off, and marched irritably back to Peter’s room, where she searched the shelves for a good book. Then she collapsed into his chair, and began to read.
Almost immediately, her phone ringer made her jump. She checked the call, expecting Peter again. Instead, the name Clint Barton stared up at her.
She watched the phone ring for a few seconds, unmoving. She hadn’t talked to Clint in what felt like forever. Finally, she answered the call, and held her phone up to her ear. “Clint?”
“Natasha?”
“That’s me, idiot,” said Natasha fondly. “What’s up? How are the kids?”
“Oh, they’re great. Yeah, little Nate’s been keeping us up all night, but besides that he’s awesome. How are you doing?” Clint sounded worried. Before Natasha could respond, he added, “Why are you on the news?”
Natasha sighed. So that was the reason for this unexpected phone call. “Nothing. I went to New York like an idiot, then accidentally beat up a bunch of Ross’s guys. No big deal, I’m fine.”
“Accidentally, huh?”
“Yep. Complete accident. I swear, they basically ran into my fist face-first.”
“Sounds like Ross’s guys.”
“It does, doesn’t it?” Natasha hesitated. “Hey, you know Spider-Man?”
“That random guy in spandex that sounded like a five-year old who was at the airport in Germany for no apparent reason?” Clint remarked.
“That’s him. So you know nothing about him?”
“Other than that Tony seems to know him personally, but won’t tell anyone who he is, no. Why?”
“Oh, no reason,” Natasha said dismissively.
“You don’t do or say things for no reason,” Clint challenged. “He hangs around New York, right? Did he mess with you or some shit? If he did, I’ll get that little basta-”
“No, no,” she interrupted quickly. “Only I caught sight of him swinging around on those web things. I was just curious if you knew anything more than I did. I guess you don’t.”
“I guess not. Sorry.”
“Oh, it’s no problem. I’m guessing you haven’t heard from Steve or anyone?”
“Nope. Like I’ve told you a thousand times, he broke us out of the raft, then disappeared. Think Sam went with him, and I’m ninety-nine percent sure Bucky was somewhere around there, too.” Clint’s tone turned grim. “Wonder how Steve’s doing.”
“He’s probably fine,” she said reassuringly.
“Yeah, he can handle himself. And Sam’ll look after him, too.”
“That is one chaotic duo.”
“Well, if you’re looking for chaotic duos, you don’t need to look farther than Sam and Bucky, I can tell you that much.”
“Yeah?” Natasha asked curiously.
“I think they’re competing for the title of Steve’s best friend.”
“Proud to say that I was there when they met.”
“What happened?”
“James, as the Winter Soldier obviously, jumped on Sam’s car and ripped his steering wheel out.”
“Love at first sight, huh?”
“Oh, yes. I’m surprised they didn’t kiss on the spot. Anyway, I’m bored. How’s house arrest?”
Clint chuckled darkly. “Riveting, as always.”
“Riveting. That’s a big word for you, Barton.”
“Well, what else is there to do here besides read the dictionary?” he snickered.
“Since when do you own a dictionary?”
“It’s Laura’s.” Clint paused, then yelled to someone on his end, “Hey! Yeah, I know, I’ll be right there!”
“Got somewhere to be?”
“Yeah, I promised Lilah I would help her practice archery. She’s been getting good, actually. If you ever come by here, you should definitely come watch.”
“I’d be happy to,” Natasha agreed, a smile on her face. “Well, I’ll leave you to it.”
“Thanks. And Nat?”
“What, Katniss?”
“If you’re in trouble, call me. You got that?”
“Of course. See ya later, Barton.”
“See you later, Romanoff.”
And Natasha hung up, knowing full well that she wouldn’t be dragging Clint into any of the messes she got herself into.
Shortly after, her phone rang again. She pulled her phone out of her pocket, and answered Peter’s call. “Something up?”
“Not a big deal, really,” Peter said. “Or hopefully, I guess. But there’s a bunch of groups of guys stationed around, they look like government guys maybe-”
“Ross’s men,” Natasha grumbled, cutting him off.
“You think?”
The redhead shook her head in annoyance. “Yeah, I saw on the news, Ross has everyone looking for me. Yesterday I got into a bit of a situation with some of his guys. I made a mistake. They saw me. They know I’m around here.”
She instantly felt bad for not telling Peter and May. Her mistake could put them in a lot of danger. But to be totally honest, she had forgotten about the encounter. It had just been pushed from her mind as soon as she met Peter. But what’s done was done. There was nothing she could do about it now.
Peter’s voice snapped her out of her head. “Oh, that sucks. Well, they won’t find you. Don’t worry. We’ll figure it out."
“Well, just call me if they bother you, okay?”
“Okay.” And the line went dead. Grunting with frustration, Natasha threw her phone onto Peter’s bed. Unfortunately, it bounced, hit the wall, and landed face down on the hardwood floor. Natasha sighed.
When she picked up her phone, there was a small crack in the corner. Not a big deal, but she was in enough of a bad mood already. She shoved it into her pocket, and slumped back into the chair.
Half an hour later, her phone lit up due to a text from Peter.
Peter Parker: never gonna give you up
Peter Parker: never gonna let you downn
Peter Parker: never gonna run around
Peter Parker: and dessert you
Natasha Romanoff: <3 fuck :) you <3
Peter Parker: toxiccc <3
Natasha Romanoff: you know you really hurt my feelings :(
Peter Parker: black widow? more like big softie
Natasha Romanoff: i- how dare you
Peter Parker: oop better run
Natasha Romanoff: smart move <3
Natasha spent the rest of the afternoon doing Buzzfeed quizzes. She was proud to say that she always got herself on the Which Avenger are you? quizzes. Most of the Avengers did get themselves, though there was that one time Tony got Steve, then proceeded to shut himself in his room for the next week. Clint swore he could hear him crying from his hideout in the vents, but Natasha doubted the truth in that particular part of the story.
It was getting into the late evening. She was just trying to figure out the best job for her depending on which breakfast foods she selected when she heard the sound of the window next to her creaking. She turned, confused, only to find none other than Spider-Man himself sliding the window open.
He waved to Natasha, and Natasha raised her hand in greeting. “Couldn’t have gone through the front door?”
As he jumped through the window and pulled off his mask, Peter explained, “I can’t just walk through my apartment building as Spider-Man.”
Natasha shrugged. “That would be amusing.”
“I would get mobbed!”
“Fair point.”
Peter nodded, zipping open his bag, and pulling his clothes out. “Also, May was staying a little late at work, but she should be back any minute now.”
“Okay.” Natasha looked him up and down. “How’d patrol go?”
“Oh, pretty uneventful. Stopped a mugging, but that was the most violent it got,” Peter said loftily. “Almost swung into MJ while she was walking, that was pretty awkwa-”
“Who’s that?”
Peter blushed. “Oh, just this girl that goes to my school…”
Natasha wiggled her eyebrows. “Somebody has a crush!”
Peter fought back a smile. “Oh, shut up!”
“No.”
“Okay then. Anyway, can you get out while I change?”
“Ah, yes, of course.” Natasha quickly exited the room, and closed the door behind her. Just as she left, a loud banging noise and the thudding of several books falling to the floor could be heard from Peter’s room.
“Ah, sorry!” he yelled. “I dropped… everything!”
Natasha entered the kitchen just as Peter’s Aunt May bustled through the front door. “Hello, Natasha!” May greeted her warmly.
“Hi, May.”
“Is Peter still gone? That boy, and the stuff he gets into,” she said with a grin.
“Oh, no, he’s back.” Natasha gestured towards his bedroom. “Changing.”
“I see.” May’s eyes sparkled. “So, how would you like some homemade tacos for dinner? Courtesy of Yours Truly.”
“I would love that,” said Natasha honestly. Having home cooked meals instead of her own hastily put together snacks that she had been living off of for the past several months had been a huge improvement. She wasn’t even sure how long it had been since she had been able to eat three meals a day, like she had today.
The dinner was amazing, as she expected, and Peter entertained the table with tales of his science lecture. For some reason, it made Natasha extraordinarily happy to simply sit and watch Peter talk about something he was passionate about. Even if that particular subject bored her to tears. She wasn’t really sure what to think about that.
Later, Natasha walked back into Peter’s room to find him standing stock-still, eyes glued to the wall. “What are you doing?” she asked cautiously, wondering what she was missing. The wall seemed empty to her.
“Spider,” was all Peter said in response.
“On the wall?”
“Yep.”
“Shit, where?” Natasha sidled up next to Peter, and the small black arachnid came into view. “I don’t suppose you like killing spiders?”
“Nope.”
Out of the blue, the spider skittered up the wall, towards the ceiling. Peter and Natasha both jumped, and the teen took a few steps back. The spider crawled over to the open window, and sat contentedly on the windowsill.
“Ironic,” Natasha commented. “The two spider heroes, both afraid of spiders.”
“They’re so creepy,” Peter whispered. “So many eyes and legs. And they always just sit there. Like they own the place.”
“You realize that you're a spider and you own this place,” Natasha pointed out.
"Eh, I would say May owns the place."
“Whatever. What do we do with it?”
“I don’t know!” Peter said indignantly. “You seem like someone who wouldn’t be afraid of spiders, you figure it out!”
“I’m not getting near that thing, you’re the one with ‘spider’ in your name!”
“My name is Peter.”
“You know what I mean!”
“Either way, I’m not getting anywhere near that little weirdo,” Peter said, with a note of finality.
“You’re a little weirdo.”
“You’re the oldest,” Peter pointed out. “That means you have to deal with the spider.”
“Since I’m the oldest and the coolest I have the power to make you do it,” Natasha speculated.
Peter huffed. “Well, it’s either you take care of it, or it stays here.”
After a moment of thought, Natasha decided, “I guess we’ll both have to suffer.”
“Seriously?” Peter groaned.
“Seriously?” Natasha repeated, mocking Peter’s tone. “If you want to deal with it, go ahead, it’s right th- oh shit!”
The spider had moved once again, wriggling to a new position in the top corner of the room.
“I need a roomba,” Peter observed.
“How the hell would a roomba help in this situation?” Natasha asked incredulously.
“It could scoop the spider up!”
“Since when do roombas go up walls?”
“I bet I could figure out how to make it do that.”
“Well either way, we don’t have a roomba with us. Unfortunately.”
“Truly unfortunate,” Peter said sadly.