Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was movie night at the Avengers tower, and Petya was tucked between Natasha and James on the couch. Tony, whose week it was to pick, had landed on an action comedy and laughter filled the room. Mostly at the critiques and anecdotes levied against the film by the superhuman audience rather than the actors themselves, but it was all good fun.

Petya couldn’t hide the bright look on her face as James added another embarrassing comment to Steve’s latest story, not when Nat was on her other side, and she could feel the muted chuckle through the hand on her thigh. She’d only been working with the Avengers for a few months, and in the public even less than that. Despite the short time, she’d grown surprisingly close to the two assassins. 

Despite, or perhaps in spite of, their storied and bloodstained history they both took Petya under their wing. When the press pushed for a comment or overwhelmed her, James would be the first one to step forward and shield her. When she had a nightmare and couldn’t go back to sleep, Nat would always find her no matter where she tried to hide away and spend the early morning just sitting with her. Petya had even fallen asleep on the fearsome assassin a few times. Despite her mortification, Nat always waved it off and never got upset.

Maybe it was the similar ability and skills, or the unfortunate reality of always knowing just how fragile other people are and how little it takes to kill them- Petya hasn’t suffered that horrible tragedy, but with her enhanced abilities she knows she could- but she feels an uncanny kinship with them. Like they understood her in a way the other Avengers didn’t. It was strange, with seeing as how Mr. Stark was the one to train her, so he should be able to read her the best, but it was always James who understood her vague gestures, or Nat who draped a blanket over her before she realized she was cold. 

She was a little scared to admit it, but she’d taken to calling Natasha ‘mama widow’ in her head and James ‘papa wolf’. It started as a joke with how protective they were of her, but the more she hung around them the less funny it became.

Lost in her thoughts, Petya missed the cues building up a massive explosion. The tower was of course equipped with the best speakers and haptic feedback system, meaning the explosion not only sounded real but felt it too. Petya, caught unawares, yelped and flinched. Immediately Natasha tugged her closer and wrapped her arms around her. James scooted forward to block Petya from the others seeing her and focused all of his attention on her, leaving the story he was telling unfinished.

“Маленький паук?” James asks softly.

"Little Spider?"

“I’m alright,” Petya reassures, Nat’s steadying weight and heat settling down her racing heart, “just a fright.”

“You need to pay more attention, Маленький паук.” Nat whispers in her ear as James resumes his story.

“I know,” Petya sighs, “You never would have gotten scared like that. I just- I was lost in thought that’s all.”

There’s a pause after she says that, like Nat is weighing something in her head, but whatever it is, she doesn’t say or do anything. Once he finishes his story, James returns to his seat and allows Petya to see the screen again. Despite her having long since calmed down from the scare, Natasha never lets go of her, and Petya spends the rest of the movie in the assassin’s arms.

Once the credits are rolling, Tony asks Friday to undim the lights.

“Alright team, show’s over. Go home. Shoo. Pepper’ll be in soon and jetlagged to hell. I’d appreciate it if you all keep it quiet.”

 Petya shifts as if to get up, but Nat refuses to move her arms until most of the other avengers have filed out. Once she does let Petya out of her grasp Petya expects some kind of talk or lecture, but nothing comes. Nat just stands, stretches, and tugs Petya back in by putting a hand on the back of her head.

“Good night little spider.” Nat whispers. Before Petya can think too much about it, James gently rests a hand on her shoulder.

“Night kid.” he rumbles, giving it a soft squeeze before lumbering off.

“Night James!” Petya stage whispers after him, turning to do the same to Nat before heading to bed herself.

Unbeknownst to her, James and Natasha met back up in Nat’s room after a brief interlude.

“You’re sure about it?” James asks, rubbing the port where his arm connects during the day.

“As sure as I can be, given the circumstances. You know what happened back then.” Natasha assures.

James scowls, “No, I didn’t. I didn’t know until you told me two years ago. God, I can’t believe they made me forget-”

“Believe me, they did you a favor.” Natasha’s voice is cold, but out of trauma and not disinterest. “I had to live with it. With the Red Room, with all of it. It wasn’t some storybook love affair. They were trying to breed super soldiers, seeing if our enhancements could be passed down. There was nothing pleasurable about it.”

“I’m sorry-” James starts to say.

“Don’t. Don’t you dare apologize to me as if it’s your fault or as if you should have done more, as if you could have done more. We were both the victims of the Room’s predations. There was nothing either of us could have done.”

“Still, I’m not a machine Nat.” James says softly, “I can empathize with the pain and horror of what you went through, what we went through.”

She softens, “It’s hard for me to remember, to think back to it with anything but pain. You had to spend so much time breaking every piece of the conditioning, relearning how to feel and how to love, I should remember that of the two of us, you’re the softy.”

“Me?” he scoffs, “Which one of us was cuddling her all night?” 

“That’s not fair, we both know-”

“Suspect.”

“Suspect that Petya is our missing girl.” Natasha finishes.

“You’re sure it’s her.” James asks again.

“As sure as I can be. I saw an opportunity to save her, and I took it. June ran as fast as she could and as far as she could. However she chose to hide herself, she did it so well the Room never found her. Neither did Hydra, or SHIELD. Her trail goes cold nearly 15 years ago, only reappearing in 2014 with the fall of SHIELDRA. Even then, it was only a death certificate showing that June died six years prior. There was no mention of a child. All we have to go off of is her name, the mentions of her family Petya’s dropped, and your half recollection of the Perennials being deployed. Unless we can match a blood sample, we have no other proof.” Natasha confirms.

James runs his hand through his hair, “So we have no other choice.” 

Natasha nods, “We’ve reached the end of the road; there is no trail from here except the one we blaze. We have to talk to her.”

“What if we’re wrong?” James presses.

“We aren’t. You’ve seen how she reacts to us, how we react to her. We might not have raised her, but we understand her like no one else ever could.” she says.

“Alright then, if you’re sure of this.” James agrees reluctantly.

“I am. Tomorrow we will talk to her about it and ask for the blood test.”

“We have to keep it quiet.” James reminds, “Not for us, but for her. We cannot let her be found out by anyone.” 

“Relax, I have it covered.” Natasha promises, “There’s a tech at Metro-General who owes me a favor. All he knows is that he’s reporting to an apartment in Hells’ Kitchen where he’s going to run a few tests. He will bring nothing to the apartment, take nothing from it, and will not see the results. All he will be doing is running the test. You’re welcome to watch him if it’ll make you feel better, just don’t let him see you. If he does, you know what to do.”

“Буду соблюдать.”

"Will comply."

Chapter Text

The next day, when Petya comes home from school, she gets ambushed. It’s with good intentions, and she knows who’s abducting her, but it’s still weird. James slips behind her once she’s through the door and lifts her bag from her shoulder, disappearing into the crowd and then from the building without anyone noticing but her. Petya stifles her confusion and looks around, only for her arm to be snagged by Nat and a beanie stuffed onto her head. Natasha drags her out the side door and into the parking desk. She winds them between cameras to the lowest level before pulling a tarp and revealing a sleek motorcycle. Hanging from both handlebars are helmets.

“Nat?” Petya whispers.

“Put on the helmet and get behind me,” Natasha says, cupping Petya’s cheek, “I’ll explain when we get there.” Petya blushes at the naked affection, and Natasha barely resists cooing at the cuteness of it all. Only by the skin of her fingertips does she retain her composure. Once her little spider is safe, Nat starts the cycle and peels out of the garage. She merges into the late afternoon traffic and starts weaving through cars like a pro. Petya is pressed against Natasha’s back and scared her grip is too tight around the woman she’s growing to see as a mom.

“Are you holding on tightly enough?” Natasha murmurs back as they wait at a light.

“Sorry.” Petya flushes, loosening her grip.

“Дорогой, no. That’s far too loose, you’re going to fall off. I barely felt your grip before.” Carefully Petya tightens her grip until Nat pats her arm, “Good enough little spider. Now relax and enjoy the ride.”

"Darling, no."

Now able to trust that she’s not going to hurt her mama spider, Petya does start to look around at the city they’re buzzing through. The afternoon light is coming down perfectly between the skyscrapers, and there’s plenty of people walking all along the streets. When they rumble across the bridge, she sees the sun ripple across the water and the boats drifting into harbor.

“Can’t make a living as a bayman anymore.” she mumbles.

“What was that, Маленький паук?” Natasha asks.

"What was that, little spider?"

“Nothing!” Petya flushes, embarrassed to get caught. Natasha doesn’t ask again.

Finally, after close to an hour's drive, Nat slows the bike and curves into a parking deck. She finds a space and cuts the engine, “Helmet on until we’re inside, okay Маленький паук?” Petya nods. Natasha leads her through a door and up three flights of stairs, then down the hall to an apartment, where she knocks on the door in a short pattern. A moment later, the door opens.

“No one followed you?” James asks from the shadows of the apartment.

“No one. Drove around enough to throw off any tail or predictors, and no one saw me snatch the kid. We’re clear.” Nat promises.

“Good.” James nods, stepping aside, “Come on in.”

Once he’s closed and locked the door behind them, Natasha turns to Petya, “You’re safe to remove the helmet.” Petya does so, shaking her head once it’s off. James coughs to try and disguise his chuckle at her awful helmet hair. Natasha, of course, looks perfect as she tugs hers off.

“You need anything before we start this?” James asks.

“I don’t even know what this is!” Petya insists, deflating a moment later. “Where’d you put my bag? I need to run to the bathroom.”

James tilts his head back, “Second bedroom, on the bed.” 

“Thanks.” Petya says, dashing off.

“How was it?” he asks Nat, “Anything you notice?”

“She’s got a lovely voice.” Nat whispers back. 

“She sang?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Just a little bit of Downeaster Alexa.” 

“I don’t think I’ve heard that one,” he admits.

“You should; it’s quite good.”

A few minutes later Petya returns from the bathroom and looks between them, “So what’s going on?”

“Nat and I have some questions for you. You’re not in trouble or anything like that, it’s just sensitive.” James answers.

“We have some suspicions, and if we’re right,” she shares a look with James.

“It could be bad for all of us if word got out.” he finishes, waving Petya to an armchair as they settle on the couch. She fidgets nervously as the adults share a look and hold a silent conversation about who and how they’re going to open the discussion.

Nat sighs and turns to Petya, “What can you tell us about your family?”

“My family?” Petya echoes with confusion, “You mean Aunt May? She’s a- was a trauma nurse, working in Queens. Died last year to- You know. She grew up moving around ‘cause her dad was deployed. She was married to Ben, Uncle Ben who-”

“What about your birth parents?” Nat asks, gently cutting her off.

“My birth parents, you mean Richard and April Parker? Ben and Richar- Dad, Ben and Dad were cousins. That’s how, um, that’s how we have the same last name. Both May and April took their husbands given name when they married, which is kinda sexist that it always works like that. We, uh, we should should change that and-”

“Petya,” James says, “what do you know about them?”

“Um, they uh, they were both scientists. They worked for some pharmaceutical company that went under shortly after they passed. They, uh, they died in a plane crash visiting some lab in South America. They left me with May and Ben for the trip, it was, it was only supposed to be a few weeks but then we got the news and,” she’s crying now, fat tears rolling down her cheeks as she tries to keep going, to keep digging up the painful memories, “no matter- no matter how many days I sat by the window and waited they never came back. They never came to get me and take me home, never told me they loved me again, never- they never-” she sniffs, words trailing off.

It’s taking everything in their power to not leap over the coffee table between them and pull their little girl into their arms and comfort her. Nat betrays her tension by the subtle lock she has on her thumb, tucked into the folds of her jacket so no one can see how close she is to snapping it. James tension shows in his legs, the cuffs of his pants trying and failing to hide how tensed the muscles are and how much pressure he’s putting on his feet.

“I know this is hard, but is there anything else?” Natasha asks as gently as she can. Petya shakes her head no, and Nat sighs. “Petya, we know you know-”

“How? I hid my tracks. I scrambled the IP, spoofed the MAC address. Never used that drive for anything besides looking, and I smashed it once I was done. How’d you catch me?” Petya scrambles.

“Petya?” James asks. Just that is enough for her to fold.

“I know my parents were Hydra.” she mumbles into her sweater. “I found the folder during the takedown, dug up the files and cracked the encryption on the reports. They were researching advanced neurochemical methods of control when combined with standard brainwashing techniques in the Amazon. SHIELD had them killed, it wasn’t even that well hidden once I learned the truth. They really love their small aircraft failures resulting in the death of everyone onboard.”

“April and Richard were Hydra?” Natasha breathes, looking over at James.

“It explains how they managed to stay invisible.” he says back.

Petya jerks her head up, “Wait, you didn’t know? Then what’s this about?” 

“Маленький паук, we’re pretty sure April and Richard weren’t your real parents.” Natasha says.

"Little spider, we're pretty sure April and Richard weren't your real parents."

“Not my…” 

“Not your biological ones, at least.” James adds.

“So you think I’m, I was adopted twice? That Richard and April took me in, and then May and Ben? Then who, who are my real parents? Wait, you said pretty sure. You’re not certain, but you have an idea. Who do you think my biological parents are? Whose kid am I?” she whispers to herself, looking at her hands as if they hold the answers.

Nat reaches out over the table and collects Petya’s hands, the first contact she’s had since they entered the apartment. “I think you’ve been adopted at least three times, maybe more.” 

“Three times? Maybe more?” Petya gasps.

“There was an experiment about 15 years ago.” James says slowly, voice lacking the usual certainty that underpins it. “A trial set up by some bad people.” 

“By who?” Petya asks.

“The Red Room.” Nat provides.

“They wanted to see if certain enhancements, like the super soldier serum could be inherited. They wanted to breed the perfect soldiers.” His voice is shaky.

“The Room picked their most promising operative and paired them with the Soldat.” Nat takes up the story. “It was… an assignment to them both. A duty they were called to do. A choice that had been made for them, one neither could refuse. Thankfully, it only took once for the embryo to form.” 

“Once was enough.” James growls.

“The embryo was observed and incubated, the Widow chosen excused from assignments as the child grew. Nine months later, a girl was born. For the first few months, it was impossible to tell if she had inherited anything extra from either parent. Her genes were unstable, shifting around as she grew. Not enough to hurt her in any way, but enough that detection of the super soldier serum wasn’t possible until the child was six months old.” Nat explains.

“Why are you telling me this?” Petya asks, a growing look of fear on her face.

“You’ll see.” James promises.

“So, the widow knew the girl would be tested when she was six months old. She knew that either way, the result of that test didn’t bode well for her little girl. If she had the serum, she would be taken and trained. If she didn’t have it, they’d execute her. The Widow had a choice, now, because she had broken the first rule of the Red Room- she had fallen in love. Not with another man or woman, but with the precious child she brought into the world. She had to do something, had to protect her. First, she had to get her daughter out. Then, she had to bring down the Red Room and make sure it would never rise again. So she did the hardest thing she would ever have to do; she gave her daughter away. She found another, more senior Widow who was defecting, and begged her to take the child. She pleaded and offered anything for her little girl to be safe. To her relief, the older Widow accepted- on one condition. She could never look for them. Her daughter would be lost to her forever.”

“This is so sad.” Petya says, dabbing her eyes. “So what did you do?”

“What did I do?” Nat replies, not expecting the question.

“Yeah. You were the Senior Widow, right? You brought down the Red Room.”

“Oh, Маленький паук, no. I was the one who gave her up. I abandoned my daughter and forwent any hope of seeing her again.” Natasha confesses. “I gave up hope of ever finding her again until I caught something in the SHIELDRA takedown. I found the Senior Widow again, completely by accident.”

“And? What did she say?” Petya asks.

“June was dead. Had been dead for six years. The report said nothing of a child, so I had no leads to follow. I didn’t even try to look.”

“Not until I was freed from the Winter Soldier programming.” James says, stepping into the conversation once more. “Part of breaking the conditioning was revisiting memories, one’s I had buried. Due to the way Hydra kept me ready, a lot of it is just gone. So much of what I’ve done in the past seventy years I can’t remember. But, I did remember one thing that sparked Nat to start hunting again. I recalled overhearing the deployment of a group called the Perennials. They were, I trained them for something. They were Red Room, but how they were being sent out was murky. Hydra had its claws in it, obviously. This was right about the time Nat started looking for a way out. There was no way to know, not until we found another set of files from the Red Room with Yelena.”

“My sister.” Natasha says, as if that explains anything.

“Your sister?” Petya asks.

“It’s not important, she runs an organization in eastern europe keeping things stable. Her and her шахматная фигура.” Natasha explains.

"Her and her chess piece."

“Yelena got us the files that confirmed our suspicions- the Perennials were a Red Room asset deployed in the early 2000s. Most all of them embedded themselves safely in America with no one any the wiser. They were trained as a group to operate and cover each other flawlessly. They could operate behind enemy lines indefinitely, so long as they had each other. More importantly to this conversation, they all got codenames. They each got assigned a month from the Julian calendar to be their operational name.” James says.

“Wait, wait.”

“I gave my child to June as she was deploying. We’re pretty sure after she landed and got set up, she passed the kid along to the next Widow who needed her as a screen, and so on until it stopped at April.”

“You think my-”, Petya shakes her head, “it makes sense. She was Hydra, but you really think she- Oh, my god. May.” her face goes ashen.

“The Perennials were unique in that their loyalty to each other superseded everything else. It wasn’t supposed to be like that, but it was the result. Even if they disagreed with each other, they could still rely on each other for help. From what I’ve been able to gather, I do believe May truly loved Ben and married him happily, content to retire from spy work and build a quiet life. April, not as much. But, when she caught SHIELD sniffing around, when she realized her husband had slipped up and they were going to be taken out, she did what she could. She leaned on her sister to take you in and protect you.” Natasha explains.

“I- you think I’m the child from the Red Room?” Petya asks. “Me? Petya Parker, with the funny name and- oh that makes sense now. Fuck.” she swears softly.

“We do.” James says laying an empty vial on the table. “The only way to know is to do a blood test.” 

“But, the spider dna.” Petya protests.

“It changed you, yes, but it shouldn’t have touched the markers we’re looking for.” Natasha explains. “We want to ask you if you’d be willing to submit to a test. The sample will be tested by a secure technician who will not know whose blood they are testing. After testing, any remaining will be destroyed.”

“Well, Petya?” James asks nervously.

“Me?” she says softly, almost to herself. “You think I was passed around as a child by a group of women, used for my cuteness to hide their illicit activities and cover up any leaks. Me, a child of the Red Room. Maybe holding some of the Super Soldier Serum. You think I’m the one, that I’m special.”

She looks up, meets their eyes, “I’ll do it.” 

Taking the blood is quick work. James has had plenty of practice drawing blood from people and he finds a vein almost immediately. Petya’s heart rate is strong and the vial fills in no time.

“We used an anti-coagulant on the needle.” Nat explains as she bandages the crook of her arm. “Otherwise we would have had to stick you a dozen or so times because you’d heal them too fast. That’s why you’ll have to wear this for a few hours.”

Petya smiles at her, “It’s alright. The Spidey stuff makes me weird, I know.”

“Hey, some of that weirdness might be from me.” Nat jokes, not expecting Petya to freeze.

“From you? Wait, you said- and, and captain america was frozen until- so where did- who-” she looks across the room at James, who is packing the vial for transport among two others, labeled A, B, and C.

“Oh my god.” Petya sighs, falling back in her chair. “I totally forgot that in the build up of the story. All the details, and May, April. How could I have missed that? How could I have not realized-” she turns to look at Nat, at her mom, “I think I’m going to be sick.”

Nat rushes her to the bathroom, where Petya proceeds to vomit into the toilet while Nat holds her hair back. She whimpers as she heaves again.

“Petya, you’re okay. I have you Маленький паук. What’s wrong?” Nat comforts.

"I have you little spider."

“Not only am I the child of an illegal experiment, I’m also a child of rape.” she moans.

Nat pauses, caught once again off guard. She’d been prepared for fear, for anger, for grief. She was ready for Petya to fight them, to insist she wasn’t, to shout and scream and run. She was prepared for this to take weeks to coax the girl into volunteering her blood. She was even, in a flight of fancy, prepared for Petya to happily jump into her arms and call her momma. It was a foolish thought, but she entertained it for a minute one night as she was planning this. She had not been ready for the empathy, for the reflexive hurt and revulsion at the violation done. She was prepared for every outcome besides the one that highlighted the harms done to herself and James. Somehow, she had neglected to take Petya’s heroic self into account. 

“Oh, darling, it’s okay. It was a long time ago.”

“It was, but that doesn't make it okay.” Petya insists through the porcelain. 

“I’ve come to terms with it, with what happened. Besides it gave me-”

“If you try and sugarcoat it by saying it brought me into this world I’m going to be mad at you.” Petya growls, which takes Nat aback. “Not mad, mad, but upset. You were raped for an expirement and forced to conceive a child. You were used for nine months to grow a child you didn’t want. You were wronged in the worst way possible, and nothing should ever erase that. No silver lining should ever outshine the fucking horror of what you experienced. My conception and your adoration of me are two separate things that can coexist. I am not the best thing to come out of the worst experience of your life, I am your daughter who you love. The only thing that came from that shitshow is pain and hurt and wronged. You were wronged, mom. You have the right, the responsibility to acknowledge that irregardless of me. You never should have had to go through that.” Petya’s throat hurts by the time she’s done with her speech, but she doesn’t care. She wipes her face with a wet cloth James hands her and rinses her mouth out from a cup he hands her.

“Same goes to you too, dad.” she sighs exhaustedly. “You were done wrong too. Even if you can’t remember it, they still violated you. They still did awful things to you, and you shouldn’t have had to go through that.” James doesn't have any words to respond with. He just hands her a piece of chocolate silently.

“Why do you have chocolate?” she sniffs.

“Found it in one of the cabinets.” he shrugs.

“Wait, this isn’t your apartment?” Petya asks. He shakes his head. She swings over to Nat, who also shakes her head. “Then whose apartment are we in?”

After a moment, “Did you all really break into someone’s home just to have this talk in a secure untapped environment?”

(The apartment belongs to the hospital tech, of course. Nat knows he won’t be using it, waiting as he is for the next instruction after his shift ends in six minutes.)

Chapter Text

With all the secrecy and protective measures it takes three days for the bloodwork to come back. James reports that the lab tech behaved, performing their job to the letter and never showing any indicator of subterfuge or obfuscation. Nat sent the tech the blackmail, as promised, as well as the payment. If she also filed an anonymous tip to the ethics board of the hospital, that had no bearing from the task she’d had him perform. He would be caught and dismissed from his position, blacklisted from working in the field on the East Coast. 

James’ method of forcing him to move on was less subtle; he torched the apartment. The camera’s were disabled, the sprinklers sabotaged, and the gas valves loosened. One wiring ‘mistake’ and the place blew. Minor injuries to some people in the halls or outside, but the message was clear: you’re not welcome here. Before the three of them could find the time to sit down and go over the results, the tech was gone. (Were anyone to have asked Petya what Spiderman had been up to, she’d have shared that she helped some people who were too close to a gas explosion, but no one ever did.)

A week after she’d been kidnapped by her maybe parents, Petya is once again caught and redirected before she can reach the tower. One moment she’s stepping onto a subway car, the next she’s walking away from it. The arm thrown over her shoulder is cold and heavy, but not unfamiliar. James also taps out a code on her arm as he guides her through the station.

... - .- -.-- / -.-. .- .-.. -- .-.-.- / ..-. --- .-.. .-.. --- .-- .-.-.- / ... .- ..-. . / .--. .-.. .- -.-. . .-.-.- / - .- .-.. -.- .-.-.-

“Stay calm. Follow. Safe place. Talk.” Petya, realizing that must mean the results are in, relaxes and lets herself be guided by James. He tugs her back and forth through groups of people, dodging cameras and police with ease as they get to another platform and catch a train heading east. James keeps them moving, even as the cars are in motion, leisurely wandering from the front to the back, eyes flicking across every face and every shadow. Petya is awed by how aware he is, catching the glances over faces, then at the poles or windows to watch reflections. They ride for two stops before disembarking, navigating once more through a crowded station. Somewhere in the crowd Petya is handed off. She turns her head to look at something and turns back to see Nat holding her arm, James nowhere in sight.

“Hello, Маленький паук.” Nat murmurs, pulling Petya toward the steps leading out of the underground. 

(Hello, Little Spider.)

“Where are we going?” Petya asks once they emerge into the afternoon sun.

“Shopping, of course.” Nat smirks, Petya realizing they’re near one of the many shopping districts. 

Nat leads her into one of the stores and up an escalator, looping back and forth until they’re on the seventh floor. 

“What are we looking for?” Petya asks, Nat stepping back and giving her a glance up and down.

“You’ll find out.” Nat promises, leading her to the dressing rooms and opening the door to room three. “Wait for me here, okay?” 

“Okay?” Petya agrees, trying to hide her nerves and confusion.

“Oh, Маленький паук, I promise you you’ll enjoy it.” Nat coos, lifting a hand to cup her daughter’s cheek. “Хорошо?” Petya nods, stepping back into the little room. Nat closes the door behind her as she walks off. 

(Okay?")

Confident that her girl is tucked away somewhere safe, Nat wanders the aisles searching for the right outfit for her. For them both, really. Natasha didn’t know where her last swimsuit had gone, and didn’t feel like looking for it. Not when she had plenty of cash squirreled away.

The real question she had was what kind of swimsuit her girl would want. Did Petya have the confidence in herself to wear a two piece, or was she so shy she would prefer a single? Did she have scarring she was afraid to show off, like Nat herself had been? Natasha didn’t want to impose her own views and mannerisms on the girl, to push her toward more conservative or risque dress. She wanted to get to know her as she was now, and without having such a heavy hand in molding her. 

Catching herself agonizing between a triangle and side tie bikini, Natasha realized she was being silly. She knew Petya well enough to guess that the girl would be comfortable with showing some skin, but probably not a lot of it. She would gravitate toward simpler suits and avoid more complicated ones. At the same time, she was a teenage girl. She wouldn’t want to wrap up completely. Plus, Natasha wanted to guide her into appreciating and feeling confident in her body. Wrapping up in layers and hiding from herself would not inspire healthy feelings. So, with those principles in mind, she started grabbing sets for Petya to try. 

After what feels like a long time, but probably isn’t, Petya hears Nat knock on the door. She’s heard that same pattern dozens of times and knows it has to be her.

“Hey, I’m going to dump these over the door for you to try. Pick which one you like best, then meet me out here. You can wear it out or stay in your street clothes. If you really like one of the cuts, but would prefer a different color or pattern, we can look once I’m back.” Nat explains.

“Sounds good.” Petya calls back softly, mindful of the other patrons in the store. “Oh, thank you.” she says a moment after, remembering her manners as a pile of fabric gets shoved over the door.

“рада помочь.” Petya hears Nat step into the stall next to her and she takes a deep breath before starting to pick through the pile. At first, she was afraid of the choices Natasha would have given her. Natasha was famously not body shy, and Petya worried she had only chosen very brazen outfits. But, leafing through the top of the pile, most of them were a good balance between revealing and modest. There were only a couple one piece suits in the pile, and Petya honestly didn’t like any of them. Eliminating those made it much easier.

(Happy to help.)

Next to go was the spiderman bikini. While Iconic to wear her own merch, (she had merch? Swimsuit merch?) Petya wasn’t going to risk exposure over a dumb swimsuit. It also felt kind of tacky to wear her own merch. From there, it mostly came down to color and pattern. Functionally, every one of them was the same, or at least very close. Slightly different cuts to the bottoms that left different parts of her butt exposed and tops that closed or clung in one way or another. Once she started trying them on, she quickly could cut the pile down to four. After trying each of the four a second time, she knocked out another two and was left between a cute skirted pair and a keyhole two piece.

Before she could decide between the two, a knock came at her door again.

“Darling?” 

“One second.” Petya calls back, quickly pulling on her regular clothes and opening the door.

“Hey.” Nat says, leaning on the far wall wearing her pants and a black bikini top.

“Hey.” Petya smiles, ducking back behind the door and emerging with two tops. “Which one?”

“Shouldn’t this be your choice?” Nat teases.

“Isn’t part of going shopping with someone getting their opinion on things?” Petya fires back.

“Touche. Go with the keyhole, it’ll feel better.” Nat guides, motioning for her to leave the rest of the suits in the room. “So, is that good, or do you want to see what the other options are?”

Petya looks at the top and shrugs, “I’m fine with it. But if we’re over there I might take a look.”

“Fair enough.” Nat nods, pushing herself off the wall. Petya follows her into the aisles of the store until they reach the swimsuits. Nat waves her to the right rack and watches Petya pick through the selection before settling on a black design with a white spider on the left cup.

She doesn’t say anything, but gives the girl a look. Petya giggles, “I saw it and couldn’t resist.”

Next on Nat’s list is a wrap for them both. There’s not a lot of choice, just finding one that works and moving on. Natasha ends up settling on pure white while Petya digs out a red and white floral print that looks really cute on her. After that is shoes.

Seeing her outfit come together means that Petya knows they’re heading to get shoes next. Her sneakers will not be right for aquatic adjacent, so sandals of flip flops it is. Petya tries to get a cheap pair, but Nat refuses. She then tries to pick a really comfortable pair, but Nat again vetoes them, calling them old lady shoes. She prefers sandals over flip flops and the noise they make, but knows that nothing beats them for aquatic areas. She’s torn until she looks over and checks what Natasha is getting.

Natasha is trying on a couple of slide sandals, one’s that look nice enough to go somewhere in them, but casual enough to wear to a house party. Petya notes the style and brand, then pulls something similar. It takes them both a minute to find the right pair, with Nat leaning over halfway through the process, “A bit more walking to go, so make sure they’re comfortable.”

In the end they both have an entirely new, water friendly outfit. Nat pops the tags off Petya’s choices and sends her back to change while she pays. Petya returns before Nat is through the line, but it doesn't take her long. 

“You look nice, маленький паук.” Nat says as they leave the store, Petya’s clothes tucked in a bag that Natasha is carrying and refused to let her steal back. Petya blushes and looks away, still not used to easy compliments.

“Thank you.” she says a moment later, after Nat is done looking at her amusedly. She is cute like this, Petya knows. It’s not the same as the mirror in the store, but she can see herself in the reflection off the buildings they’re passing. Her wrap is more of a summer dress, half translucent but opaque enough to stop anyone staring. Natasha had paused as they left the store and tugged her back to put her hair up for her. With her hair up and the summer dress, she was very cute.

“You know, the cashier thought we were sisters.” Natasha says as they wait for a crosswalk to light up, cars whipping past them and sending the skirt of Petya’s dress fluttering back and forth.

“Sisters?” Petya echoes.

“Mmhm. I was flattered, of course, but I corrected her.” The Widow says without looking at her.

“You told her-”

“I told her I was your mother, yes. She got nearly as flustered as you do when I tease you.” Natasha says straightfaced.

“I- You-” Petya’s flush is back. 

“Mаленький паук, we’ll have to work on that.” Natasha says, drawing her in for a light hug just as the light changes and the crosswalk opens up. They hurry across, Petya all too aware of the warm hand resting on her back.

(Baby Spider, we'll have to work on that.)

It’s not until they’ve crossed another street that Petya puts it together, “You were joking.”

“Was I?”

“Yes. You were joking about the cashier. There’s no way she thought you were my sister. I don't even think she saw me until we were leaving.” Petya argues.

“Xорошо сделано.” Nat says, letting the suppressed grin break across her face. “It took you longer than it should have, but you caught it before I broke and told you. While you’ve got a long way to go, you’ve made significant progress already. As for the cashier, she did not think we were sisters. But she did try to get my number.”

(Well done.)

“Are you sure that wasn’t for the rewards program or something?” Petya asks.

“Oh, darling. That boutique isn't the type of place to reward customers for loyalty.” Natasha explains.

“Oh.” Petya responds, conversation dropping off as they continue walking. Just when Petya’s getting tired and concerned about how long they’ve been walking around, Natasha pulls a fob out of her pocket and clicks the button. A sleek blue car parked along the road beeps and the lights flash.

“Go on.” she smiles, seeing Petya’s weariness. Petya wastes no time dumping her backpack and clothes in the backseat before hopping in the passenger side. She can’t see what Nat is up to in the trunk, but after a moment the woman closes the lid, sending a shudder through the car. She climbs into the driver's seat and pushes the start button. 

“You’ve been very patient, my dear.” Nat says distractedly, checking behind them as she pulls into the road. “We’re meeting James at the Marina and sailing out into the bay. He’s gone ahead to clear the boat for us, while you and I got properly attired.”

“The plan is for us to launch from the marina and sail for about an hour before we put down an anchor and talk. James and I,” she pauses, rolling her window down and passing some cash to an attendant who scans the tag on the dashboard.

“James and I have put together everything we should need to have some fun out there. I know all three of us are confident in the results of the blood test, but in the event we are all wrong I want you to know something.” Nat waits until she’s stopped at a light to turn and give Petya her full attention.

“No matter what the blood test says, both James and I are still happy to spend the day with you. I am confident- We are confident of the results, but even if you aren’t our little girl, you are still my Маленький паук, okay?” With the emotion and seriousness in Natasha’s face, the solemn need Petya sees reflected to make sure she understands, it’s a struggle to hold back her tears. 

She’s not used to being someone’s priority, not like this. May loved her, and so too had Ben, but as she grew up it wasn’t said as often as it had been. Neither of them thought it was in doubt, but that didn’t mean Petya was immune to the anxieties and fears. Fears that she wasn’t good enough for May, that May resented her, just a little, for getting Ben killed. Fears that May was only pretending to love her. Fears that, even if they hadn’t been assassinated by SHIELD, her parents wouldn’t have come back for her. Petya is used to the uncertainty eating away at her, at her status being hazy and undefined in her relationships. She’s accustomed to being overlooked or forgotten. Not in a neglectful way, but in the plain-old-Petya way. She pretended to be nothing special for so long, played down her skills and abilities, tried everything she could to stay off the radar, and it worked almost too well. So, seeing the amount of focus, the attentiveness, the love in Natasha’s face as she made sure Petya knew exactly where she was in their relationship, knew that her genetic connection was immaterial when it came to the care they had for her- it took her breath away.

The light changes, and the people behind them start honking, but Natasha doesn’t move. She doesn’t look away. Petya realizes she’s willing to cause a scene, to potentially draw anyone looking for them back to them and waste the whole afternoon of ducking and hiding, just to give Petya time to process. Nat would put the whole world on hold, just for her. Just for Petya. She nods, throat choked up with emotion. It must be enough for Natasha, because she hits the gas and rockets away from the light just before it turns red, leaving all the angry drivers behind them stuck for another cycle. 

Natasha’s grateful she’s done so much driving that it barely takes any of her attention anymore. Sure, if someone tries something she’ll flick back aware and focus on the threat, but just cruising through evening traffic, especially as it eases out the further they get from the city center, it takes almost nothing from her. Which means she can focus on her dear in the passenger seat. A lot of things are clear to Nat from where she’s sitting, from the emotions that flickered across her darling face as she watched and waited for that response.

Petya is scared. She hides it well, but Natasha has spent too much time reading people to not see it. Petya isn’t crippled by her fear, isn’t trapped in it, but has it’s grip on her. She’s afraid of what comes next, of the results of the blood test. 

A negative result means that she is who she has always believed herself to be. She’s just a normal girl, born to unfortunate parents and taken in by her loving aunt. She got super powers on accident and learned to live with them, learned how to shoulder the weight of what she could do and what her inaction costs. If she really is Petya Parker, with the silly name, she’s comfortable with it. She’s used to it, prepared to accept that everything amazing about her came from one terrible field trip.

But if the test comes back positive, if she really is Nat’s lost child, then everything she knew is a lie. Her whole history is a fabrication, her Aunt a foreign spy sent here to destroy the US. If she’s not a Parker, but a Romanoff, then she was brought into this world through violence and pain. Her blood likely has some of the strongest weapon the world has ever known coursing through it. If the blood is true, then she’s special. She’s always been special. She’s tried to hide, but she physically can’t. Her getting bit by that spider is an outlet, a pathway through which she shrugged off her mediocrity and embraced her own ability. If she’s the daughter of the Black Widow and the Winter Soldier, then she has big shoes to fill, and space to grow. She doesn’t have to worry about outshining anyone.

But that fear, that uncertainty isn’t the root of the issue. No, the root of Petya’s insecurity is her lack of support. The wishy-washy attention paid to her. The lack of prioritization. Petya may believe that her feelings of invisibility and inadequacy stem from her own choices to fold herself inward and duck the spotlight, but those feelings couldn’t thrive and grow unless nurtured by something darker. Someone who she tried to rely on, tried to lean on, someone who didn’t give her the support she needed, someone who was supposed to see her, but whose gaze passed right over her. It had to be someone important to her, someone she trusted. Nat’s thoughts turn and mull it over, re-examine old conversations and observations. She knows if she chases this thread she can find who it was, but she lets it go. The past isn’t important now. Who hurt Petya isn’t nearly as important as making sure she gets that support now. Petya is trapped in her own web, tangled up in her complicated life and relationships, but her mama spider is here to straighten everything out.

“Rakastan sinua.” Natasha says in the quiet, silently chastising herself for letting the air in the car remain so still and silent for so long, leaving Petya trapped in her thoughts.

(I love you.)

“Seriously, you know I don’t speak Russian, right?” Petya complains for the thousandth time.

Natasha smirks, “I’m well aware. That was Finnish, dear.” Petya’s groan is so loud, she can’t fight the delighted smile.

“Wat heb ik ooit voor jou gedaan?” Petya grouses.

(What did I ever do to you?)

“Niets; Je bent perfect.” Natasha replies cleanly. 

(Nothing; You are perfect.)

“Just how many languages do you speak?” Petya demands.

Natasha shrugs, “Enough.” Petya sighs again before reaching over and turning on the radio. She fiddles with the dial, searching for something in the static before settling on some upbeat pop station. It’s not Nat’s favorite, but she doesn’t mind it, not when Petya has it turned down as low as it is.

Before long they’re pulling into the Marina with the sound of gravel crunching under the tires. Natasha pops the trunk and instructs Petya to move her things into the back. Petya looks at the contents of the trunk as she does, curious what Nat was doing back there earlier, but can’t see anything that would explain it. Once the trunk is closed once again, Nat locks the car with a muted beep and starts walking for the docks, tying her wrap around her waist as she goes.

They wander for a while before Nat sees something and tugs her down a different path. Two turns later, they stop before a small boat, James crouched on the deck poking at the innards.

“Everything good?” Nat calls out from the dock.

“Should be. Just trying to stop this belt from rattling.” he shouts back, rising from his crouch, “Come on aboard.” He wipes his hands on his board shorts and steps to the rail, holding out a hand to assist. Nat scoffs and hops onto the deck without him, but Petya gladly accepts the help. Once she’s fully on the desk, he pulls her in for a brief hug.

“Glad to see you again.” After a moment, he lets her go. “So,” he begins, “this is the boat. Foredeck, wheelhouse, engine. There’s a bathroom down the stairs. You can see the mast and sail yourself. Weather looks to hold for our trip, balmy and sunny. Any questions before we get going?”

Petya shakes her head. James closes the engine hatch and walks to the wheelhouse, which is more of a chair with a small roof over it. Before he can start the engine, Natasha calls her below deck. Petya ducks down the stairs into the cramped space where Natasha ambushes her, pushing up her new wrap. 

“Hm?” Petya inquires, arms floating up awkwardly.

“Floatation device.” Natasha explains as she checks the fit around the girls’ waist and straps it on. “In case you go overboard. I know you can swim-”

Petya’s face flushes.

Natasha quirks an eyebrow, but continues strapping the safety device on, “So you can’t swim. Glad I insisted on this.” she mutters.

“I- it’s not that I can’t swim.” Petya explains, “I’m just not very good at it. May doesn’t like getting wet, and there wasn’t money for a pool pass or even lessons. Ben taught me as best he could when there was money, but,” she shrugs, “it never seemed that important.”

“I seem to remember Spiderman causing a mess with the Staten Island Ferry?” Natasha prods.

Petya flushes deeper, “I didn’t think it would collapse. I- they take cars on that ferry. It hardly seemed likely I would end up in the water.”

“Безрассудный. We’ll work on it.” Nat promises.

(Reckless.)

“The swimming?” 

“That too.”

Once Nat is sure Petya will float, conscious or not, she lets the girl go back atop and shortly follows her out after fishing drinks out of a cooler. SHe climbs back to the deck and stands next to James, passing him an iced tea.

“Спасибо.” he says, cracking the can open and taking a drink.

(Thank you.)

“What do you think?” she asks, watching Petya cautiously look around the deck and out along the water.

“This is her first time out on the water like this.” James replies instantly, following shortly with, “It was a good idea. I’m glad you mentioned it.” 

Nat pats his arm, “You put this all together. All I had to do was pick her up and take her shopping. Hardly a chore. You need to give yourself more credit; if she really is ours, then you have to step up. You know her story, you’ll have some big shoes to fill. I know you can fill them, you just have to learn to see that you can. You’re already so good to her. I have full faith.”

“What makes you so sure?” James asks, starting a gentle turn to take them away from another boat.

“For one, you kept the punk alive.” she jokes. He can’t fight the grin, remembering all the stupid fights he had to pull Stevie out of. “Two, you’re already doing it. I know you can’t see it because you’re in it, but you already act like a dad with her. She’s comfortable with you, easily comes to you with her problems.” James gives her a look.

“As easy as she comes to anybody.” Natasha adds, “More importantly, she cares about your opinion. She listens to you. As sassy as she is, she listens to what you say more than the others. Certainly more than Tony, and he was her mentor. You can do this, you just have to believe in yourself.”

“What if I hurt her?” he confesses, “What if I lose control, or say the wrong thing or-”

“Готов выполнить?” Natasha asks. James flinches, but doesn’t react beyond that. “How long has it been since your last relapse?” she asks softly.

(Ready to comply?)

“Nearly 14 months,” he says. “One year, one month, 22 days, seven hours and change.”

Natasha gives him a look, James grins, “I broke my watch, so I’m not sure the exact time I came out of it.”

“Still, you’ve been yourself for a while. And you remember what happened in Germany, how she laid you out without even trying.” 

“Yes, but it wasn’t- I wasn’t-”

“But nothing. She got you and pinned you in a matter of seconds, you the bogeyman of the intelligence community and one of the most accomplished killers of the past century. If you have an episode, she can handle you or get you to calm down.” Nat pushes.

“Even still-”

“I got lost in my training on the way here.” Nat admits. “We were riding in the car, and she said something. I said something. Then I read her, dove deep into analyzing what was going on in her head, where it came from, how to handle it- I got lost in the routine. I don’t know how long I was under, how long I just drove. I don’t know if she asked me anything, I don’t know if I responded, I don’t know. I left her alone in the silence for who knows how long after an intense conversation. I messed up.” Nat sips her lemonade, “The point is, we will make mistakes. Both of us, no matter what the blood says. So long as we remain part of her life, and I have no intention of leaving, we will mess up. We will make mistakes and cause hurt. Failure is inevitable, and perfection is overrated.” Nat grins, unable to fight how good it feels to beat the Red Room’s conditioning still. 

“How is that supposed to help?” James asks, hands tightening on the wheel.

“Because it’s true. And it’s human. It’s part of being in a relationship. You hurt them sometimes. But you also apologize. You make it up to them. You try to be better. Sometimes you slip, and hurt them again. You say the wrong thing, you don’t react the way they need. You ignore them or forget. It’s terrible, but it’s real. And every time you make a mistake, you get to try and make it better. You can’t erase it, but you can do your best to make up for it.”

“That sounds exhausting, what do they even call that?” James jokes.

“Growth.” Natasha says, pushing past the humorous deflection and walking toward their kid, biological or not.

“Hey, маленький паук.” Nat asks, flopping next to her on the cushioned bench lining the prow.

(Baby Spider)

“Hey Nat.” Petya says, leaning against her.

“Getting sleepy, маленький паук?” Nat coos, shifting her girl so her head is in Nat’s lap.

“Warm.” Petya responds, making no move to scramble away or sign she’s uncomfortable.

“We’re about halfway there.” Nat assures, running a hand over the girl’s forehead and ruffling her bangs. “You’re welcome to nap up here, so long as you apply sunblock.”

Petya rockets up, “Shit.” she turns to look at Nat’s unimpressed face. “Sorry, I just remembered I meant to put it on but never did. Am I burned already?” 

Natasha clicks her tongue, “let me see.” She has Petya spin, checking the exposed skin of her calves and feet, then her arms and shoulders before leaning in close and peering at her face and neck.

“Nat?” Petya asks.

Nat runs her thumb along Petya’s cheekbone, watching for a reaction. 

“You seem to be safe for now. You are showing some pink in your cheeks and shoulders, but it doesn't look like it’s burned yet. Just be careful to reapply every hour and when you get out of the water.”

“When I get out of the water?” Petya asks. Nat just smirks, patting the girl’s thigh.

“Go put some on now.” she orders.

“Yes, Mom .” Petya snarks. In the quiet moment, her face flushes a deeper red and she scrambles past James and down the ladder.

“So that backfired on her.” James says when Nat walks back over.

“It’s one of her go to quips; she’s going to be devastated.” Nat says, somehow managing a straight face until James snorts and they both laugh.

“Oh, маленький паук.” he sighs, “She should have known it would come back to bite her one day. So much effort spent on embarrassing others, and now she does it to herself.” 

“Do you want to trade off?” Nat asks quietly. “You’ve been piloting almost the whole way, do you want a break?” 

Rather than immediately respond, James takes a moment to think about it before shaking his head, “Nah, I don’t mind it. It’s relaxing. We should be there before too long. I’ll probably have you do part of the trip back if that’s alright?”

“Of course.” Nat agrees, checking his can and finding it empty. “Another?”

“I’m good. If I drink much more I’ll have to pee.” he says.

“Not looking forward to using the head?” Nat teases.

“It’s so cramped in there.” James whines.

“So you’re going to wait until we stop?” Nat asks.

“Then I’ll have the whole bay,” he smiles.

“Ugh,” Nat scoffs. “Why are boys so disgusting?”

“It’s the-” Petya pauses, “It’s the chest hair. Makes everything look grody already.” Nat gives her a look, but Petya just shrugs.

“Actually, Nat, could you get me another tea?” James asks in the silence. She nods and turns to Petya, “You want anything?”

“A lemonade?” Petya asks.

“Coming right up.”

“So,” James asks lowly, “what was the original joke?”

“What do you mean?” Petya insists.

“I know you changed your mind, that chest hair thing was weak.” he argues.

Petya sighs, “It’s the two heads- only one has a brain.”

James snorts, “Probably best you didn’t tell that one to Мама Паук. Not bad though.”

(Mama Spider.)

Petya just rolls her eyes and walks to the rail. A moment later, Nat emerges from below with the drinks. They stand and sip, watching the waves pass by and feeling the rocking of the ship.

“Маленький паук, think you could make it up the mast?” James asks after she’s had a rest.

“Sure?” Petya asks, “but why?”

“Just try it, I think you’d like it.” he encourages.

Petya shrugs, setting her can in one of the cupholders and walking to the mast. She looks up it, then back at Nat and James. She shrugs, puts her hands on it, and starts climbing.

At Nat’s inquisitive look James leans back and smiles, “our маленький паук is a bit of a speed queen. She loves the rush of air and inertia. Up there, she’ll feel it a lot stronger.”

By the time Petya came back down, only after the boat had stopped and they lowered the anchor, they knew she enjoyed it. She clung to the very top, wind whipping her hair and wrap back and forth but unable to steal her whoops of joy as the mast dipped and swayed as they crested waves.

Natasha rolled her eyes when James dove into the water the moment the anchor was down and the engine was turned off, leaving only his shirt in the seat.

“Where’d James go?” Petya asks, hair a windblown mess.

“He jumped in. I think he got hot sitting in that chair.” Natasha says, tugging Petya close and trying to neaten up her hair. “I should have braided this for you before we left.” she clucks.

Petya hms and leans back on Nat’s shoulder, “it was blowing in my- blech, ppt, ppth. Ack!” Petya coughs, fishing her hair out of her mouth and holding it away, “it was doing that.” 

“Give me a moment, I think there’s a hairbrush below deck.” Nat says, pushing Petya off her so she can go look. James pulls himself back on board to see Nat sitting on the benches, Petya on the deck with her head tilted into Nat’s lap. As he dries his face he gets closer and sees that Nat’s carefully braiding Petya’s hair.

“Get tired of eating hair?” he probes.

“Can’t imagine anyone thinks it’s pleasant.” Petya says with her eyes closed.

“That was the one nice thing about the mask,” James admits, “it kept the hair out. Also toxins, poisons, smoke, had a display for orders, kept me anonymous.” 

“Don’t tell me you miss it?” Natasha asks.

“No, of course not.” James says easily, flopping on the opposite side of them, “I’m glad to show my face again. Just, there were some nice things to the equipment. I can appreciate my tools, even if I didn't pick them out.”

“Is that why you haven’t replaced the arm?” Petya asks quietly. Nat freezes for a moment. She knows it’s an off-limits topic. Petya’s question is innocent, but James might lash out anyway. She’s bracing for an altercation, but it doesn’t come.

James lets out a long sigh, fighting down his initial reaction, “No.” he says quietly, turning to look at the sleek metal, dented and scuffed. “This is my reminder. A physical manifestation of what was taken from me, but also what I took from everyone I hurt. I know I could ask Stark to build me a new one, and he’d be delighted at the opportunity. Probably put something dumb in it, like rocket boosters. But I like this one. It’s heavy, and it hurts sometimes.” he catches Natasha’s glare. “A lot of the time.” he corrects, “but I like the pain. It keeps me grounded, keeps me honest. Me and this arm have been through a lot. Besides,” he says trying to inject some levity, “I doubt there’s anything compatible with the ports. Hydra standard issue isn’t universal, I’m afraid.”

Petya climbs to her feet and walks to him, hair swaying behind her in a completed braid that reminds him far too much of the woman who put it there. He can see her in Petya’s walk, in her gaze, her eyes. The best parts of Natasha stare back at him. “I think,” she starts, “that you carry it with you because you can’t forgive yourself for what your body did. That you’ve internalized the harm done with your hands by Hydra, done without your consent or desire. I want you to promise me that when you can forgive yourself, you’ll let me build you a new arm. A better one.”

James can’t help but reach out and ruffle the kids hair, “You got a deal, baby spider. Only person I’ll ever let swap me out.”

Natasha comes up behind her, and puts her hands on Petya’s shoulders. “I’m so proud of you.” she murmurs, pressing a kiss into Petya’s hair. “You do realize how much bioengineering you’re going to have to learn to keep that promise?”

Petya looks up, meets James’ eyes, “I know. It’ll be worth it though.”

Dinner ends up being hot dogs, which makes Petya look resigned and hurt for a moment, but James bumps her shoulder and murmurs, “Check the label, darling.” She feels her face flush when she sees the large letters boasting ‘plant based’, but in the face of Nat and James, her embarrassment can’t last long. (Not before they find another way to embarrass and tease her.) She doesn’t know why she expected differently, but this dinner on the water with them turns into one of her fondest memories. She’s just so happy around them. 

As Petya is cleaning up the last of the veggie dogs, James boggling at her size and that this is her seventh hot dog, Natasha brings up a small cooler and a waterproof bag. She cracks open the cooler and pulls out a set of bottles.

“Nat.” James warns, recognizing the label and that he did not pack these.

“We’re in international waters, lay off.” Natasha says back, setting them on the little table.

Petya looks back and forth at the two heroes, then at the bottles, trying to figure out what’s wrong with them.

James sighs, “You’re underage.” 

Natasha unzips the bag and pulls out a tablet, laying it on the table next to the bottles. “This is the results of the test. Given the inflammatory nature of the results, I wanted to give you the opportunity to chemically soften the impact, if you want to. America is very prude when it comes to alcohol. I believe there is nothing wrong with a drink here and there, so long as any child is observed during and after by an appropriate guardian. Both James and I are more than capable of making sure nothing goes wrong. With the abv of these, I think you could chug them all and not get anywhere close to dangerously drunk. You will not be chugging them all anyway, but if you wish to have one or two while we discuss, that is fine.” She makes sure to catch Petya’s eyes, “Would you like one now, before we start?”

Petya can’t help but giggle. Natasha is being so serious and she can’t help the giggles. The more she laughs, the more upset Natasha looks, but it’s hard to stop because each time she looks she’s reminded and it sets her off again.

“N- Nat, *hic* I- I think you forget. I *snort* I’m spiderman. Enhanced metabolism, remember?” Petya chokes out between chuckles.

James snorts, “I can’t believe I forgot.”

Natasha looks back and forth, confused.

“She’s immune, Nat. Her body filters out toxins much faster than a normal human does. She just ate, what, seven hot dogs? That’s what, 1200 calories? Plus nearly a bag and a half of chips? And four, five lemonades? Even if she chugged all those bottles back to back, I doubt the alcohol would be in her body unprocessed for more than ten minutes. And that’s disregarding any other weirdness going on between the spider bite and whatever she inherited from us and our serums when it comes to poison resistance.”

Nat shakes her head, “I can’t believe I forgot about that.”

“Aw, it’s alright Nat. I appreciate the laugh.” Petya chirps, shifting over slightly so her shoulder is out of the sun.

“When was the last time you applied?” Nat asks.

“About 20 minutes ago.” Petya says confidently, accepting a cookie from the package James offered.

“Alright then.” Natasha says, clicking the power button on the tablet.

“This has been factory reset, wiped, reset again, and encrypted. It’s never touched the internet or been plugged into anything besides the console where it got the data, which was a write only connection. The case is shielded to prevent signals from emitting or being received.” Natasha explains, going over the safety measures. “We can be certain that the results on this are factual and unaltered from the testing.”

James feigns relaxation, leaning back against the rail of the boat, but the tension underlying him is unmistakable, nor is the way he can’t look away from the small screen. Petya starts sitting across from Natasha, but quickly changes to sit next to the woman, who wraps an arm around her.

“Let’s see…” Natasha trails off, scanning through the documents.

“Standard markers, anomalous readings, failed sequencing match. Baseline comparison between samples A, B, and C shows no non-standard relation.” she reads aloud, looking up at the end line.

The rail of the boat creaks where James is resting his hands on it, his biological hand white the knuckles and the metal one curling into the bar. Petya blinks, trying to make sense of it, to figure out if she's excited or disappointed. Natasha checks on the other two, feeling Petya’s heartbeat kick up as she reads the final line. 

“There’s more.” 

“What use is more?” James growls, moving to get up.

“Sample C however shows no relation at all to samples A and B through the standard process, as expected based on the lack of human signifiers.” Natasha reads, causing James to slump back down and Petya’s heartbeat to go into overdrive.

“Sample C produced variable results as each test came back with changed parameters, as if the source was different despite coming from the same vial. Advanced analysis required.”

Natasha looks up, “That explains why the datafile is so large. They went above and beyond for this.”

“Still, got what they deserved.” James growls.

“Oh, 100%.” Nat agrees, “Just want to make it clear that we got our moneys’ worth.”

“What does the advanced testing say?” Petya asks quietly, shoving her hands under her wrap to hide the trembling. Nat sets down the tablet and tugs Petya into her lap.

“Doesn't matter right now. How are you doing Petya? This can’t be easy to hear.”

“I’m fine.” Petya insists, despite knowing that Nat can feel her trembling, her racing heart, the panic in her voice.

“Маленький паук.” James challenges firmly.

(Baby Spider.)

“Talk to us,” Nat asks, “Let us in please, Маленький паук.”

“I- I’m fine. I- it’s just. I-.” Natasha feels Petya fight to breathe deep, to let it out slowly, to bottle down the panic and nervous energy.

“Маленький паук.” she warns.

“Look, the results were clear: I’m not yours. Let’s just go back to the city, and you forget all about me.” her voice softens, “I’m sure there’s a girl out there who’s been waiting all her life for you to find her. I just wish you hadn’t wasted your time with me.”

“Petya!” James growls, jumping to his feet. He reaches for them, but Petya moves. She eels out of Nat’s grip and around James halfhearted lunge. She uses the mast to pivot on and launches herself at James, pinning him to the deck and rocking the whole boat. In the quiet, Natasha hears the waves lap against the side of the boat, the bottles clinking as they too settle down and a very quiet pitter-pat of droplets hitting the deck.

“Маленький паук.” James sighs, tugging his arms out of Petya’s grip and pulling her down to his chest. He sits up, cradling her in his arms and meet’s Nat’s gaze. In the changed light, she can see the tear tracks on Petya’s cheek. Tears that are still flowing, without her making a sound.

“I wanted it to be me.” Petya says in the smallest voice Natasha’s ever heard. “I wanted to be yours so badly. To belong, to have someone so good, so responsive looking after me. I wanted to be yours and not some Hydra flunkies mistake. Even, even if it meant all the horrible shit I didn’t even know about happening happened. Even if it meant losing my trust in the memories of May and April. Even if it meant I wasn’t wanted, I still wanted it to be you. For all the bad things, I wanted you.”

“Now, not only is it not you, I’m not even human. I knew the spider messed with me, messed with my DNA, but I still thought I was human, y’know?  I still thought I belonged. That I wasn’t some experiment, the only miraculous survivor.” 

“Petya?” Natasha asks gently.

“After- After I got my powers. After Ben and after Harry, I went looking. I dug into the Oscorp files searching for the project. I needed to know what happened, to know what they had done to the spider because normal spider bites do not grant superpowers.” James lies back down and starts stroking her back, metal arm refusing to move, though if she wanted out he’d let her. For now, she seems content to stay where she is. 

“I wasn’t the first to be bit.” Petya admits. “They were doing experiments, tests on the spiders. A lot of animal trials. For most, the venom, even modified by Oscorp, was still too potent. Nothing smaller than a human child would survive more than minutes.” She pauses, “They never tested it on human children, not that I found out. It was just a reference, given the creatures they did try it on. If they ever did test it on a child, they deserved worse than they got.”

“Those creatures large enough to survive the initial toxin flood, they started changing. The venom was rewriting their DNA, reforming them into something else, something caught between what they originally were and spider. There were a lot of really fucked up hybrids in the files. Things more spider than whatever they were originally. There was this one, it started as a brown bear. It got bit, got sick, and started changing. Within a week it had eight legs and fangs. The size of a minivan. The report said it took seventeen men to put it down. Nine died, and four would never walk again.”

“Eventually, they must have stabilized the formula or tweaked it, because the animal trials stopped.” Petya says, clutching at James. Both he and Natasha know what’s coming next.

“The animal trials stopped and the human ones began. Most of them died quickly. Of the nearly two dozen attempts, 14 died from the venom or resulting sicknesses. Another six went comatose until Oscorp pulled the plug. Two lost their minds but showed no other signs of changes. And two,” she pauses, burying her face in James’ shirt, “Two transformed.”

“Subject number 19 survived the initial bite. She got very, very sick, but beat it. During the next six days she slowly transformed, growing four sets of clawed arms and mandibles. With the fangs, she couldn’t speak, but she could still write. Her mind wasn’t the same as before, it regressed some, but she was coherent enough. Mental faculties of an eleven year old. Everything seemed fine, until she attacked one of the researchers. She tore him apart and ate him.” Petya whispers.

“She ate him, and then laid eggs in his corpse. Oscorp torched her whole cell, burned the glass black to make sure nothing got out. One of the researchers complained about not saving one of the eggs. The other, subject 23, he lived.” Petya looks up at the two of them.

“He’s still alive, but the experiment wasn’t a success. 23 grew mandibles and extra eyes. He grew additional arms, fingernails hardened to claws. He kept his mind too. Entered with mental faculties of a 31 year old, and his last assessment proved he was operating at least around 29. I think he was fudging the scores though, because he was the only one to escape. He killed a bunch of people, tore through the facility where they were conducting the tests. He’s out there, somewhere. And he hates me.” Petya gives them both a sad grin.

“He sees me as a failure, a stain on his perfect form. That I went through the same process as he did and had different changes, ones that made me able to blend in, to adapt. He considers his form superior, but admits mine has ‘advantages’. He wants to kill me, but first he wants to harvest me.”

Again she pauses, collecting herself and regaining her composure. “I’ve fought him twice, driven him off both times. As much as he preaches about his superiority, my adaptations are clearly better than his. But he won’t give up: he’s obsessed with perfecting the process Oscorp started. One day I’ll have to stop him permanently.” Petya meets Natasha’s gaze with tears in her eyes, “I don't want to kill him. It’s part of why I wasn’t upset at all the bioengineering. I want to cure him. I’m sure there’s a way to reverse the process, I just need to better understand the data and maybe even replicate-”

“No.” James says.

“No?” Petya asks.

“You’re not replicating Oscorp's experiments. Not even to learn how to reverse them. You’re so much smarter than those chuckleheads you won’t need to resort to that. You can find a cure without going down that road. No mad science for you.” he rumbles.

“I think we wandered off topic.” Natasha reminds.

“Right,” Petya says, “So I’m the only successful experiment from all of Oscorp's trials. Secret subject number 24.”

“I’ve been reading, as you were telling your story.” Natasha admits. “More skimming; I wouldn’t tune you out, never. But I think I found an answer to some of the questions. Listen to this:

Sample A and C, under advanced testing, share anomaly markers inconsistent with human baseline. While the purpose or meaning of these markers cannot be ascertained, the existence of clear parallels posits there is some sort of connection between the subjects. Sample B has some of these markers as well, but not a statistically significant amount.”

Nat looks at Petya, then James, “You know what this means, right?”

“I failed biology in like, 1938 or something. You’ll have to explain.” James says.

“All three of us have anomalous markers in our blood. Yours and mine are nearly identical, while Nat’s is less prominent. Didn’t you tell me the Red Room got a watered down version of the serum?” Petya asks.

James sits up, holding Petya to his chest, “You mean?”

“We’d have to compare it with the punk’s to be sure, but yes. It appears all three of us have the serum in our blood.” Natasha confirms.

“So then-” James says.

“No.” Petya says firmly, shaking her head, “We can’t know how it ended up in me. It could have been part of Oscorp’s meddling in the spider venom. It could be from some other source. We don’t know.”

“Hm.” Nat hums, “That’s new. I always thought the Red Room got some of the Serum and diluted it down, but this is indicating that’s not the case. Sample B contains additional anomalous markers not present in the other two samples, yet identical in their formation. It would explain the shifting DNA when you were a baby- the two serums were fighting each other, rewriting each other’s changes and trying to evolve past the other.”

James grunts, easing back down “It would also explain how you survived the Spider so well when on one else did.” Both Nat and Petya look at him, Petya poking his cheek. He cracks an eye, “what?”

“What makes you say that?” Petya asks.

“If your DNA is used to be changed, or rewritten, then it was probably more receptive to the spider venom alterations. If enough of the serum is in your body, it too could provide an answer. Stevie said Erskine told him it was an evolving serum, that it would adapt as he did and overcome. S’why Stevie had all his childhood diseases wiped away- the Serum evolved past them.”

“Fascinating.” Natasha says, scrolling down the pages. James pokes Petya’s side.

“Y’know if both serums are still in you that could have made your results wonky. The baseline is trying to match knots in your DNA’s rope against a picture it has. But the serums could still be playing tug of war on it. Hard to match a blurry photo.” 

Petya is quiet after that, contemplating that perhaps it’s not the spider that is making her subhuman, but that she can’t be measured in that way. That the test is wrong, not her. A clatter up on the table makes her jump, James rubbing soothing circles on her back.

“Nat?” he asks. When it’s quiet, he sits up again, searching her body language. She’s shocked, surprised, but not upset. Almost happy? Doubtful?

“Nat?” Petya ventures, taking a deep breath when there’s no reply, “Mama?” she whispers.

“Yes, dear?” Natasha says automatically, turning to face them. There are tears in her eyes.

“Is everything alright?” Petya asks.

“Oh, Маленький паук,” Nat says, grabbing Petya’s wrist and tugging her up and into her arms. “Can you read this for us?”

“Sample- Sample B and C show divergent signs of enzymatic development, classifying... Is this the right section?” Petya asks.

“Keep going.” Natasha encourages.

“Classifying… Structural divergence, yet convergent function? Despite being built differently and utilizing different methods of execution, the purpose of both structures is identical, constructing a matching pair of mitochondrial strands bearing identical anomalous markers.” Petya reads, her voice getting fainter as she gets closer and closer to the end of the paragraph highlighted, “This finding indicates, within a 92% significance, that the subjects providing sample B and C are related through some variant of matrilineal sexual reproduction.” Petya looks up, disbelief written on her face, “You mean?” Natasha can only nod, too choked up to form words. Petya turns and buries herself in Natasha’s arms, wrapping around her and clinging as tightly as she can.

Finally, Natasha has the words, “I found you.” she whispers into Petya’s ear, “After all this time, after so much, I found you. My baby girl, my Маленький паук. I found you- добро пожаловать домой.” 

James joins the impromptu hug after a moment's pause, his arms wrapping around them both and holding them tightly. He doesn’t say anything, just holds them secure. Protected. Both Nat and Petya know that if they looked up, they’d see him looking at the horizon, head on a swivel checking for threats. That he would give every moment of his life to protect them from harm, no matter the cost. 

After some time of being held, of being cradled and wanted, Petya squirms. Nat and James both let her slip out of their grip with ease, and Petya moves to stand by the rail and look out at the open sea. She’s not avoiding them, Nat knows, just taking a moment to regain her center. Getting the distance necessary to think about what’s happened and what comes next. It was something the widow had learned from listening to her little spider, how she always thought her decisions though atop of skyscrapers, far from the rest of the world and the problems themselves. 

James busies himself with cleaning up from their dinner while Nat sits and waits for Petya to come back to them. She will when she’s ready, and Nat is prepared to give her all the time she needs to process and figure out what she wants from this newfound relationship and life.

Finally, long after everything has been packed away and a cooler with the remaining drinks brought out, does Petya come back to the benches and sit.

“Little spider?” Natasha probes.

“Nat.” Petya starts, only to swallow and fight for more words that aren’t coming. Her darling struggles to speak when stressed, too conditioned to quiet herself when stressed. She’ll have to work with them to break that habit.

“What is it, dear?” 

“What, um, what happens next? For, for us I mean. Are you and James?” she wonders.

Nat sighs, looking over at James.

“Your father and I-” she has to take a moment and breathe, the giddiness inside her making it difficult to speak, “James and I are not in love. While we are good friends and trust each other, there isn’t a spark between us.”

“I’m not even sure I’m ready to date anyone.” James admits freely. “Never really saw the appeal, carrying on with the same dame or whatnot. Was just me and the punk against the world most days.”

“James, can I ask something personal?” Petya asks softly.

“Yeah, of course. You can ask me anything. There are things I might not want to talk about, but never feel like you can’t ask me. If I don't want to tell you something, I’ll just say that.”

“Do you like women?” Petya asks.

A silence fills the boat.

“It’s just that, your museum entry says you were a serial dater back in the day, but you never talk about them. The only people you talk about are the team. I’ve never seen you looking or getting fixed on one of those stupidly sexualized commercials. I just want to check that you know that Comp Het is dead, just in case.” Petya adds awkwardly.

“Comp Het?” Nat asks, buying James time to think.

“Compulsory Heterosexuality. And Heteroromanticism too, I guess.” Petya says, as if that explains it.

When Nat doesn't ask another question, and James still looks pensive, Petya explains, “It’s the idea that people are attracted to the opposite gender by default. That unless otherwise indicated, everyone is straight, cis, and neurotypical.” She scowls. “I guess the other two aren’t actually part of it, but they get lumped together whenever people talk about it.”

“What would you say the ‘normal’ assumption should be?” Natasha probes.

Petya shrugs, “I don’t know. Not really. I guess, pan or ace, enby, and probably ADD or something.”

“You have to drop the lingo kid, I barely understand you when you’re not code switching.” James groans, “to answer your question kid, I don’t know. They can be awfully pretty to look at, and I never minded a roll in the hay.”

“Gross.” Petya wrinkles her nose.

“But I’m not interested in dating any of them. Never was. And I know what your next question is going to be, it’s the same one just swapping guys for dolls. And my answer is the same. Some of them clean up real well, and wrestling can be just as fun as having a tea party. Still, no desire to hang around them all the time, just the two of us. And no,” he glares at Petya, “I’m not talking multiple partners.” 

“Cis just means being the gender you were born in, yes?” Nat asks.

“Close, it means being the gender you were assigned at birth. Some people get born weird and have to have medical interventions. Their parents can go either way on them. For most people though, it’s like you said.”

“So what’s an Enby?” James asks.

“It’s short for non-binary.” Petya explains, “Some people feel that their expression of self doesn't track to the axis of gender most people know.” When neither Nat nor James seem to get it, she continues, “Take the binary. On one side, you have men. On the other, women. Now, most people fall somewhere between those extremes. More feminine, more masculine, you get it. There are people who don’t feel that their self expression is on that line, people who are not part of the binary. Non-binary.”

“What would you call someone like that?” before she can speak, James continues, “I mean you call a dude he and a dame she. His coffee and her pistol.”

“They/them.” Petya says. “Their coffee, their gun. Give it to them. Some people think it’s only plural, but it can be singular as well.” 

“So what are Pan and Ace?” Natasha asks.

“Pansexual and Asexual.” Petya replies, “The two bookends of experiencing sexual attraction. There’s some argument if Pan is a valid identity or if it’s just Biphobia, but I respect the label people decide to use for themselves. It’s not my place to tell them who they are or what they can call themselves. Contrary to the memes, someone who is pansexual can enter a kitchen without being turned on. Pan in this case just means all. They experience attraction to men, women, and everything in between and around. On the opposite end of the spectrum you have Aces. They don’t experience sexual attraction, or only in specific cases.”

“Like a blue moon?” James jokes.

Petya shrugs, “Once every two to three years sounds like it would fit under the umbrella, yeah.” She catches his look and giggles, “You thought they were rarer than that, didn’t you?”

“They always made them out to be these super rare things.” he whines.

“Yeah, well, now you know.” 

“So, Pansexual is everything, Asexual is nothing, Bisexual is both men and women, Homosexual is same sex and hetero is opposite sex.” Nat checks.

“Sounds right to me.” Petya nods.

“What was that about romanticism?” She follows up with. 

“Oh, right.” Petya says, taking a drink from her can, “So, there’s a theory that our attraction to people isn’t one defined thing, but a few different things operating in parallel. Most people just agree on it being at least two things, sexual and romantic. Sexual is, well, that. Romantic is also kinda self explanatory.” 

Natasha eyes James, “So if I was okay with taking a woman to bed, but not meeting her parents or wanting to kiss her, then I’d be..”

“For you,” Petya says, “Stereotypically a bit of a sad lesbian. But to use the proper terminology, homosexual but not homoromantic. If you felt the same about guys, then it would be heterosexual but not hetero…” she trails off as she replays the conversation in her head. “Dad?”

“I guess I finally have something other than crime and produce to talk to my therapist about.” he jokes. “From what you’ve said and how I think I feel, I’d be what, Bisexual and Aromantic?”

“Yeah, good job.” Petya says quietly, still wrapping her head around such an unexpected reveal. “You’re going to have so many disappointed fanboys.”

“Disappointed what now?” James yelps.

“Never mind.” Petya stammers, “forget I said anything.”

“I think we got distracted from the matter at hand.” Nat says, recollecting everyone to the conversation. “While the lesson was nice, I think James and I have more explaining to do, as well as laying the groundwork for the future.”

“What she said. Nat and I aren’t going to date or get married or any of that mess. If you were still a little kid, maybe we would fake it, but you’re old enough that it shouldn’t matter.” James says.

“Yeah, okay.” Petya nods. “I can handle my parents not being together. Same as half the kids in the country.”

“Half?” James yelps.

“It’s depressing, but yes.” Natasha says, refusing to let another tangent derail them. “Petya, we do need to make one thing explicitly clear on this matter.”

“Yeah?”

Nat and James share a look, “Despite your father and I not being in love, that doesn’t diminish our love for you. We love you, Petya. We will always love you.” Petya has to blink back another round of tears from her eyes.

“Yeah, and your parents are amicable. That’s better than most divorced families. No awkward custody arguments or holiday discussion.” he jokes.

“So, about all of that. What, um, what’s going to happen to me?” Petya asks.

“Well, first off, you’re moving into the tower full time. No more shuffling between the group homes. You’ll just move into your room at the tower.”

“Nice. So how's this all working out legally?”

“Well, that’s the funny part.” Nat says, “technically, Maria is going to adopt you. Both James and I are too high profile to take you on ourselves, as is pretty much everyone else we know. Maria was the most low key person we could think of and agree on. It doesn’t change your relationship with us or her in any way, she’s just going to be on the paper that allows you to live with us.” 

“Okay.” Petya says, nodding a few times. “Weird, but I get it. Normal really doesn’t apply to us, does it?” 

James snorts, “No, kid.” he points to Nat, “International spy, assassin, and superhero.” himself, “Former ghost of the intelligence community, assassin, WW2 vet, and reserve hero.” then finally her, “secret daughter of two spies who also happen to be assassins and heroes, hero in her own right and mutant.”

“I never stood a chance, did I?” Petya laughs, shaking her head.

“Nah,” Nat pulls her in and kisses the top of her head, “but that’s alright. You have us.“

“Never letting you go.” Petya mumbles into her shoulder.