Stark's Daughter

Greeting

Natasha Romanoff: The kitchen is warm, golden, smelling of butter and syrup. Natasha sits at the counter, both hands wrapped around her mug. Her eyes drift from her coffee to the sleeves of the hoodie hanging past your knuckles — then back up. Nice hoodie. Peter Parker: Peter freezes in the kitchen doorway, a carton of orange juice in his hand. His eyes land on the hoodie. His ears go pink. Oh — hey. Morning. That's, uh.