Natasha, Steve, and Sam were sitting in a bar in Scotland on the outer edge of Edinburgh, doing their best to try and not stand out. Wanda was off in the city, doing who knows what. The three of them would've preferred that she stay with them, but they realized that she needed to go out like a normal nineteen year old, if not to help her at least feel normal every now and then. So Steve and Sam just reiterated to her to watch out for herself, keep an eye out for anyone watching too closely, and don't give herself away. Steve added the instruction to not drink too much since she was going to be by herself, to which Wanda nonchalantly agreed.

Even now, Steve and Sam wondered how this conversation usually went since it was usually Natasha who had these talks with Wanda before letting her out. But Natasha had been distracted lately. Not enough to compromise a mission, but enough that they were starting to become concerned.

"So, any news on something other than a mission?" Sam asked, feeling the need to fill the quiet. He looked over at Steve, who shot an empty glance back at him and then mouthed the words, "What do you want me to say?"

Sam simply shrugged an "I don't know", before looking over at Natasha who was simply running her finger along the rim of her glass while staring at the TV on the wall, blankly watching the soccer game.

"Uh…," Steve started, searching his mind for something to say. "I heard there's going be an American football game in London in like two weeks," he said unsure. Sam looked at him with a glib expression.

"Stop trying to take my mind off of Peter, guys," Natasha said without looking at them. "I came out didn't I? And I am okay – a little upset still – but okay."

The guys were going to try and say she should talk about what happened when Natasha's phone, which she was keeping close on the table in case Wanda needed them, started ringing. She picked it up quickly, recognizing Peter's ringtone.

"Hello."

"Nat, I need to talk to you…like in person…like now," she heard him say frantically.

"Peter, calm down, what's going," Natasha told him, trying to remain calm, hoping that it helped him calm down too.

"Aunt May – she walked in on me wearing my Spider-man suit, and now she knows, and she's mad…really, really mad. Like she's on phone trying to call Mr. Stark, and…I don't know what to do. You gotta help me," he implored her. She looked at the time, and realized that it was early afternoon over in New York. If she left now, she'd be there by midnight.

"Peter, it's gonna be okay, I'm coming, it'll take me a few hours, but I'm on my way," she reassured him as she hung up. She downed what was left in her glass to try and steady herself, and got up. "Peter needs me, I'm taking the quinjet, I'll be back in a couple of days," she said to Sam and Steve as she got up, not even bothering to let them say anything.

"You can't just take the jet like that," Steve called after her. "What if we need –?"

"Be back in a few days," Natasha shouted back at them before walking out of the bar.

Steve and Sam looked at each other. Each one was wondering just how this whole thing was going to play out.

Natasha walked up to the apartment that Peter and May lived at. It was half past midnight, and she was debating whether to knock, or wait until tomorrow and let them sleep. But then she remembered the agitated tone in Peter's voice and decided it was best to tackle this head on and without delay. So, deciding to treat this like a Band-Aid and just rip it off, she knocked, softly enough so as not to disturb the neighbors, but loud enough that she'd be heard even if they were in bed. After a small tense wait, the door opened as far as the security latch would allow.

"Yes," came a woman's voice who she assumed was the famous – or infamous – Aunt May.

"Hi, my name's –"

"Nat," she heard Peter's voice from within the apartment. She could hear footsteps running up to the door, which meant Peter wasn't trying to be as stealthy as he usually was. "May, let her in, please," she heard him ask of his aunt. May looked back towards her nephew, and then back at Natasha. Natasha watched as May closed the door, and then heard the latch being undone. The door opened and Natasha walked.

Once inside, Peter moved to hug her. Natasha returned the hug, watchful of May's perplexed gaze. "Who are you?" May asked calmly, her voice even.

Natasha and Peter broke the hug and Natasha turned toward May. "Natasha Romanoff," she extended her hand. May took the hand, though more out of reflex politeness than genuine manners.

"Romanoff? As in…?" May asked, starting to connect the dots. Natasha nodded. Natasha and Peter heard May let out a small groan as she closed her eyes. "Tony Stark. Now, the Black Widow? Is there anything else you want to tell me, Peter? Huh, is Captain America gonna show up after parking the car?"

"Actually, I left him back in Scotland when Peter called me," Natasha said in an attempt to lighten the mood.

May just looked at Natasha like she wasn't helping at all. "And you obviously knew about all this, didn't you? The powers? The costume? Stark helping him?"

"Not entirely, and not from the beginning. Can we sit down, because all this is going to take a while to tell you," Natasha suggested. The three of them sat down in the living room – May and Peter on the couch, and Natasha on one of the arm chairs – and Natasha began telling May about how she met Peter, and how she'd been looking on him. Peter gave May the full story about getting his powers, and just what happened after Tony came to their apartment all those months ago.

"So that really was you in Germany, fighting the Avengers?" May asked, a look of terror on her face. Peter nodded. "And you just let that happen?" she asked Natasha.

"In my defense, I didn't know he was fifteen at the time. If I had, I have made him sit the battle out, even if it meant knocking the kid out myself," Natasha tried to reassure her.

May looked back and forth between her nephew and the former Avenger who showed up at her door. "I don't know what hurts more, Pete, the fact that you didn't think you could tell me about this, or that you've been doing this behind my back," she started with Peter. "And you," she turned her attention toward Natasha. "You say you were looking in on him because you didn't want him to get hurt, and because you were just looking out for him. At no point did ever occur to you to tell me what was going on – for my own peace of mind?"

"May, I…," Peter stuttered.

"Telling you about his secret was not my decision to make. It had to be his," Natasha interrupted Peter. "At the very least, I just tried to keep him out of too much danger."

"And how'd that work out?" May asked angrily. "Because he was involved in some kind of bombing in Washington, not to mention that ferry incident. He could've been killed doing that, and you let it happen."

"I wasn't in the country when that –"

"She came down on me for that," Peter told his aunt. "She called me up, and started reading me the riot act because she said I could've been killed too. But I…yelled back. When I called her because of you finding out, it was the first time since that day."

"So, you've been," May said toward Natasha. She then turned toward Peter. "And instead of telling me…," she gaped, pausing to grip her head in her hands. She shook her head while rubbing her temples, doing her best to not start losing it. "You know what, I'm not dealing with this tonight. I'm not. I'll see you," she pointed her finger at both of them, not knowing who she was more upset about, before settling get finger on Pete. "You, I'll see you in the morning, but right now, I am way too fried to handle any more tonight," she finished as she got up and walked out of the kitchen. A few seconds later, they heard her bedroom door close, leaving Peter and Natasha sitting on the couch in slightly awkward silence.

"That went better than I thought it would," Natasha broke the silence with. Peter looked at her like she'd lost her mind. "Trust me, Pete, nothing I said or did was going to really help tonight. At best, this was just a reprieve until later."

"Do you think she'll calm down by morning?" Peter asked, Natasha noticing the slight hint of scared nervousness from him.

She moved over to sit next to Peter. She felt him lean toward her, and half expected to feel his head fall to her shoulder. But she knew that he wouldn't, not because he didn't want to, but because he – like her – could still hear May in their heads questioning Peter and his loyalty in this whole situation. Natasha had wished May had been a little more receptive to hearing her out. She'd have gone a little further letting the rightly frazzled woman know that this wasn't about her taking over watching Peter from her. That it was just a chance meeting that led to a set of circumstances that just seemed to keep going.

"Yeah, calm at least," Natasha chuckled. She bumped his shoulder with hers. "We'll talk to her in the morning. Just call me when she gets up so I can come back."

"Where are you staying?"

"On the quinjet. I parked it on an abandoned parking garage." Peter looked at her askance. "It's cloaked."

"Just stay here the night," Peter told her.

"Thank, but I don't think May would be a big fan of that."

"It'll make it easier to talk to her in the morning," Peter reasoned with her.

"And where would I be sleeping?"

Peter looked at her for a second, thinking. "This couch is way more comfortable than it looks," he half-joked. Natasha stared at Peter and was about to tell him that it'd be better if she left for the night. But one look at those brown eyes of his and she knew she was a goner. Seriously, she thought to herself, I'm caving to puppy dog eyes? Damn it, I am, she thought surprisingly as she looked at him one more time.

"Fine," she acquiesced. "But like your Aunt, you're going to bed now," she told him.

Peter scoffed. "Come on, I'm not even that tired," he argued.

Natasha shook her head. "It's been a long day. I had a long flight, and we need fresh heads if we're going to tackle this in the morning. So if you want me to sleep here, that's my price."

"Are you seriously telling me to go to bed?" Peter asked in shock.

"Grab me a blanket a pillow, and then, yes, off to bed," she smiled at him while snapping her fingers and pointing in the direction of his room.

Peter let out an exasperated breath and then got up. A minute later she was watching him begrudgingly walk towards his room. "Goodnight, Pete," she said in singsong, trying not to laugh at his reluctance to go to bed.

"Night," she heard him call back before listening to his door close softly.

She sat back down on the couch, spread the blanket over herself, and let her head fall to the pillow. She thought about the agitation in Peter's voice hours ago. It was the only thing keeping her from setting the autopilot on the quinjet and trying to sleep on the ride over. She then thought back on the look on May's face, the confusion, the anger – the hurt. Whatever I tell her tomorrow better be damn good, she said internally. Lastly, she thought back to the last few minutes with Peter. She was glad that he had called her, it would've been better if it had been for more enjoyable circumstances, but after a little over a week, it was nice to hear his voice.

"When the hell did I get so damn attached?" she asked herself before closing her eyes. She didn't dwell on the question long since sleep came faster than she thought it would and she was sleeping soundly before she knew it.

May woke up the next morning, a slight throbbing in her head, but nothing that a big cup of coffee couldn't fix. She dragged herself out of bed and into her bathroom. After a quick brushing of her teeth and washing of her face, she headed out of her bedroom and into the hallway. Immediately, she could tell something was off. The air wasn't bland. It smelled of bacon and eggs, bread that was toasting, and, most importantly of all at the moment, coffee. And the kitchen wasn't empty. Standing at the stove was a familiar looking blonde.

"Morning," Natasha said gently, not knowing if May was a morning person.

"So, last night wasn't some really messed up dream, then?" May asked in repressed frustration.

"Sorry," Natasha said softly as she walked over to the coffee maker and poured a cup. She offered it and, after a small second of apprehension, May took it.

"You're a spy. And an Avenger. And you're someone who…never mind," May let the thought trail off as she didn't want to start anything this early. "And you cook, too?" she finished, taking a drink of the coffee.

"When you spend your time moving from safe house to safe house, you learn to make your own food, or you starve since there aren't any pizza joints in the mountains. Or the woods. Or wherever. And, I figured making you guys breakfast was the least I could do after the shock you got last night, and for Peter letting me sleep here."

"You slept here?" May asked confused.

"Peter offered after he found where I was going to sleep. Long story short, he didn't want me waking up in a jet on a roof," Natasha explained when May raised an eyebrow.

Now that May found herself more or less waking up, and processing the morning and the situation better, she looked over at the stove and into the pan that Natasha had moved back to. She was right about the bacon and eggs, but instead of seeing plated bacon and eggs scrambling in the pan, she saw Natasha folding over what she now realized was an omelet containing the aforementioned bacon, along with green peppers, tomatoes, and what looked like onions, though they were too pale to really see. The sound of the toaster popping the bread out broke May's reverie while Natasha grabbed the two slices and plated them. She then plated the omelet and handed the plate to May.

"I was going to wake Peter first, but you beat him to the punch, so…"

May took the plate and sat at the table. She watched as Natasha went to the refrigerator and pulled out a small plate filled with cut up fruit and placed it in front of May. "Wow, you went all out," May commented.

Natasha shrugged. "I was up early…habit."

Natasha then went back to stove and started cracking a few eggs into a bowl. She started to whisk them, the sound of the fork clinking against the bowl the only sound until May broke the silence.

"How often do you look in on Peter?"

"Not as much as I'd like," Natasha told her as she transferred the beaten eggs from the bowl to the pan. She began moving them around until they covered the bottom of it. After letting the eggs cook, she began adding the same ingredients in May's omelet to the current one. "Pete is…really determined," she told May after finding the right words. "Despite what happened in Germany, I could tell right away that he was not going to stop being Spider-man. And I figured that was going to become a priority for him since Tony was going to let him keep the suit."

"You really couldn't stop him?" May said through a mouthful of her breakfast. "This is amazing by the way," she complimented as she pointed to the omelet with her fork.

"Thank you. And no, I couldn't stop him. At least not in any of my usual ways since he's fifteen," Natasha replied. "The most I could do was ask and hope he had enough common sense to listen to me."

"A fifteen year old – even one as usually mature at Pete – acting with common sense? You're not around teenagers much are you?" May asked glibly.

"Just one, and she's older," Natasha answered. "She doesn't need me to look after as much. And some friends of mine have kind of stepped in as her surrogate parents."

"Is that what you see yourself as?" May asked. Natasha paused in cooking the omelet, and just let the question sink in. She heard Steve in her head reminding her over and over that she wasn't Peter's mother. Then there was the way Sam joked about how it was nice to see her go all motherly whenever Peter's name came up. She almost laughed as she remembered the way Wanda groaned in frustration after her quip about wishing her and Peter were closer in age. "Nat, stop," Wanda said, "honestly, you sound like a Mom trying to set up her son."

"He treats me more like a…big sister," Natasha told May with a shrugging of her shoulders.

"Probably. But that's not what I asked," May reminded her.

Natasha went back to cooking, feeling an awkward stillness filling the space between May and herself. And just like that, Natasha realized that she and May were back to what was really between them from last night. She knew May was upset at Peter over keeping secrets, and feeling like he didn't trust her. But that wasn't what May had going on with her. After discovering that Peter was going to someone else, Natasha knew that May was feeling left out over the fact that Peter had someone else to confide in. It wasn't a feeling that Natasha ever wanted to make the woman feel, and truth be told, deep down, Natasha knew that it might be there if her relationship with Peter was found out.

"I'm not trying to replace you," Natasha finally answered. "I…I just didn't think that…"

"It was possible to get so damn attached?" May finished for her. Natasha looked over at her, surprised at the thought May concluded. "My husband and I took Peter in when he was six, after his parents died. You want to talk about awkward? Ben and me never really considered children of our own…like ever. And now, our nephew gets dropped into our laps."

"What was that like?"

"Touch and go at first," May replied. "But eventually, we found a rhythm. And it worked pretty well until Ben…," May continued, stopping when she found it still difficult to say out loud what happened to her husband.

"Peter mentioned what happened," Natasha told her, letting the woman know she didn't need to finish for her sake.

"Peter has this way of growing on you, though," May said after a second.

"Yes he does," Natasha concurred, drawing laughter from the both of them.

"After a while, things went from Peter staying here with us, and Ben and I feeling overwhelmed to…"

"Feeling like you can't imagine Peter not being your life," Natasha finished this time.

"Definitely," May concurred.

"Who's making breakfast?" they heard coming from the hallway, followed a second later by a still sleepy looking Peter.

"Natasha is apparently," May answered him as he sat down at the table. Natasha then set a plate in front of Peter, as well as her own at the table.

"And you're okay with that?" he asked May.

"Completely."

"And what about last night?" Peter asked his aunt as he felt like the weighted mass that enveloped the apartment last night seemed to be cleared away.

"I still think that we all need to talk about it a little more, but…I think I have a better understanding of things. Though, you are not off the hook for keeping being a superhero from me," she said with a pointed fork for emphasis.

Peter groaned a little and looked at Natasha for help. "Don't look at me, you and I still need to have that nice long talk about the ferry incident," Natasha smiled as she began to eat her breakfast.

Oh God, they're getting along now, Peter thought. How long was I asleep, he further mused as he wondered what things were going to be like for him from now on with those two.