MoF Day 7: Natasha's Little Spider

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**Welcome to MONTH of fluff! We've graduated from a week, now y'all have to put up with my fluffy stories for longer ;) Still send in suggestions, this was a fun one to work on. Also, there will be regular chapters and stuff, I actually have some angst and a request coming at y'all later this week, but they won't be labeled "MoF" so just skip them if you're here for the fluffy. Enjoy!**

Natasha unzipped her boots and kicked them off by the door, popping her neck as she did so. It had been an infuriatingly long mission, misinformation, messed up plans, and missed marks making it particularly infuriating. The entire time, though, Natasha had been thinking of home.

"Peter!" The woman called, tossing keys onto the table by the door with a clatter. "I'm home!"

A small boy, skinny and shy, with brown curls flopping over his forehead, peeked out of the room at the end of the hall. "Mama?"

The ex-assassin smiled and opened her arms for a hug, so the boy ran down the hall and into his mother with a peal of laughter as she spun him around.

"How was it?"

"Fine," Natasha answered. "The real question is how are you? Did you have to go see Ms. Mary across the hall for anything?" Ms. Mary was the elderly woman in the apartment across from Peter and Natasha's and she often kept an eye on Peter when Natasha had to leave for work.

Peter shook his head 'no'.

"A very independent 7 year old." Natasha nodded her head. "What did you have for dinner?"

"Mac and cheese, or noodles, and one night I had soup."

Natasha tried to never be gone more than a week, and usually she was back before Peter could cycle through his microwaved meals, but recently she had been getting harder and harder assignments.

"Sorry I was gone so long, baby."

Peter shrugged. "Only 4 and a half days."

The little boy wandered down the hall, heading for his mother's room. It was their tradition to stay up late the first night Natasha was home, talking about the mission and the cartoons Peter watched and school. Natasha followed behind him, feeling terrible that she had left again, and that Peter was so okay with it. Why wasn't he mad? Why didn't he ever ask her to stay?

Peter was sitting on the bed, criss-cross applesauce, waiting for Natasha. "You can take a shower and change, I'm going to put on some popcorn and turn on the heater."

Natasha wandered into the bathroom, striping out of her tight suit and switching on the hot water. She washed up quickly, then got out and tied her hair in a bun. She wore sweats and a tee shirt for pajamas, relaxing more and more as the stink of the mission was washed away. When she stepped out of the bathroom, Peter was waiting. The bed was warm, thanks to the heater, and Peter was snuggled up in the blankets with a bowl of popcorn between his little hands.

Natasha reached over and popped some into her mouth, winking at Peter as she did. He glared.

"You have to ask nicely," he grumbled.

His mother just laughed. "I was the one who bought that stuff, I think I deserve to at least get a little."

Peter shrugged, shoving a handful of the popcorn into his mouth at once. His cheeks were full and round, reminding Nat of a chipmunk.

The two snuggled closer, Natasha pulling him into her arms and breathing in his shampoo.

"You know, I don't really like leaving," the woman confided. "I actually hate it. And I hate that you're so good at taking care of yourself, you shouldn't have to do that. What do you think about me turning down missions for a bit?"

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