**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?"

Peter thought for a second. "Would we still have money to buy popcorn and stuff?"

Natasha nodded.

"Then I would probably like it. I like having you home. I miss you too much when you're gone."

And that was enough for Natasha to vow not to leave again. At least for a year, at least until Peter was older. And Peter was glad, even if he could make himself dinner and go to school by himself when she was gone.

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Tony pounded on the apartment door. It had been hell tracking it down, half of SHIELD had been on it before they got even a lead. Natasha had kept herself hidden, that was for sure.

The manhunt had started a week ago, when Fury told the team Natasha was refusing any new missions. Tony hadn't really cared, honestly, he was happy she was doing something for herself and making her own choices, but everyone else seemed to think it was the end of the world.

So that's how Tony was standing on the third floor hall of a the shittiest apartments in Queens he had ever seen. The team decided Tony was closest to her, so he should be the one to pay the ex-assassin a visit.

Tony pounded on the door again. "Nat, it's me. Tones. Let me in, I just want to talk."

There was a noise inside, like something being pulled across the floor. Then a little thump, like something banging on the door. The the scraping again, and the door was unlocked. The latch, the bolt and chain, was still on though, so the door only opened a couple inches.

"Nat?" Tony peered through the door, not seeing anyone.

"Down here."

Looking down, Tony was shocked to see a little boy in the doorway.

"Who are you?" Peter asked, looking up at Tony with narrowed eyes. "You know Natasha?"

Tony cocked an eyebrow. "I'm Tony, I work with Natasha."

"Ehh!" Peter made a buzzer noise. "Natasha stopped working a week ago, who are you really?"

"I mean I worked with Nat before she left. Now, really, kid, who are you?"

Peter held up a hand, albeit a small one. "What's Natasha's real name?"

"Natalia."

"Does she speak Cantonese, Mandarin, or Tingzhou dialect standard Chinese?"

Tony furrowed his brow. "I don't even know what the last one is, but I think she can speak like 30 languages, so probably all 3."

"Where is the Barton Farm?" Peter asked, crossing his arms.

"Mid-west. Kid, I swear, I'm a good guy. I'm Ironman. Tony Stark. Literally famous."

Peter seemed to think a moment, his little eyes darting between the lock, Tony, and something behind him. Finally, he slammed the door, making Tony jump, but he was only unlocking the chain. The door swung open again, and Peter let Tony in.

"You can sit over there," Peter said, pointing to a worn couch in the living space. "I'm eating a frozen yogurt."

Tony watched as the boy walked into the kitchen and pulled out a frozen Go-Gurt tube, peeled off the top, and began sucking. "I'm Peter."

"It's nice to meet you Peter. How do you know Natasha?"

Peter didn't answer, just cocked his head to the side like he was hearing something. Tony heard a faint thumping noise, and looked over at the boy. He waited for an answer, but instead, Peter got another yogurt tube from the freezer and went to the hall, almost like he was waiting for something.

"What are-" Tony started, but was cut off by the door opening.

"Peter," Natasha called. "I'm home!"

"I've got a frozen yogurt," Peter chirped. "I heard you coming up the stairs."

Natasha smiled, grabbing the yogurt from the boy and peeling off the top with her teeth, as her hands were full of grocery bags. Tony stood up and rushed forward to take some of them out of Natasha's hands, ignoring the look of confusion on Nat's face.

"When did you get here? And how did you get in?"

"Peter was kind enough to let me in after some heavy questioning."

Natasha nodded. "He's not supposed to let anyone in, you must have said some sort of magic word." She looked over at the boy.

"He knew your name."

Natasha laughed. "That's a pretty good sign he knows me, baby, but it also might mean he knew me as a kid, and that would be bad."

Peter nodded, taking in the information while sucking on his yogurt.

"Who is this, Nat?" Tony asked, gesturing at the boy. "Is this why you're not doing missions? Is he a nephew, a friend's kid, what?"

"He's mine," Natasha said simply as she started to put groceries away. "I don't like leaving him on his own anymore. And my old babysitter moved to the middle of nowhere, so. There's that."

"I thought you said Uncle Clint and Aunt Laura had to go somewhere safe." Peter chimed in.

"Safe is just a fancy way of saying 'middle of nowhere'," Natasha said.

"You have a son," Tony breathed, still processing. "A son? Peter is your son?"

Natasha nodded. "Tony, he is my world. I can't risk anyone knowing about him or me or us. Or this apartment. I have to take care of him, and more than that, I need to be here for him. Can I trust you to not tell the team? Just cover for me, I don't care what you say, just," Natasha took a breath. "Don't tell them about Peter. Please."

Tony searched her face, but found nothing but love and fear. "Of course."

Natasha sighed. "Peter, would you get Tony a frozen yogurt and come sit on the couch with us? I want you to meet one of my best friends."

Tony protested the yogurt at first, but one slurp made him change his mind. And that's where he stayed for the rest of the day - eating yogurt and learning about Peter and catching up on the life Natasha led when she wasn't at the Tower. He wouldn't have changed that for the world.