Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~800
Characters: Steve/Natasha
Prompt: Halloween
A/N: I liked the idea of kids dressing up as the Avengers in canon, too, so that's where this little piece of fluff came from.
Here's something extra sweet to kick off my Halloween through New Year's drabble-a-day project! You can find the full prompt list on my tumblr account (of the same username) if you want to take a look at what's to come.
the most wonderful time of the year - day one
Last year on Halloween, Clint and Laura were over and they took the kids trick-or-treating around the neighborhood, and it was great, of course. Natasha doesn't ever pass up the chance to spend time with those kids, and it was nice to sit down and catch up with Clint and Laura afterward, when it was late and the kids were already asleep.
They're not coming over this year – Lila is still getting over a cold and Clint wanted her to get some rest – but Natasha didn't really feel like dressing up for the Stark Industries party that Tony invited them to, either. She didn't want to have to put together a costume, and honestly, all she really wants to do tonight is stay at home with Steve and pass out candy. Maybe that sounds stupid, but whatever. It's actually really cute to see all the kids light up when Steve opens the door and tells them how awesome all their costumes look, and they even get excited to see her, believe it or not. Parents even want her to take pictures with them. That still surprises her. She can see how kids might not understand who she really is and what she did, and most of them were probably too young to remember the Black Widow spilling all of her secrets to the public. They just know who she is now, as an Avenger.
She honestly didn't think that their parents would come to see her like that, too.
"You're my favorite Avenger," a little girl tells her as Natasha drops a few pieces of candy into her bag. She's dressed as a ballerina, with a pale pink ribbon in her bun and a sparkly tutu, and Natasha couldn't help but notice the almost perfect point to her toes when she leaned up to whisper this to Natasha, like they were sharing a secret.
"Really?" Natasha asks, leaning down to get closer to her height. Natasha knows that Steve is grinning at her. She can practically feel his gaze.
The little girl nods. "You're the reason she wants to become a gymnast," the girl's father tells Natasha, sounding proud. "She thought you looked so cool doing your flips on the news. Right, sweetheart?"
The little girl nods again, smile widening, and Natasha… doesn't really know what to say.
"That's great to hear," Natasha says, watching the girl's eyes brighten. She giggles a little and reaches into her bag, producing a folded piece of paper and holding it out for Natasha. "This for me?" she asks, carefully unfolding it, and Natasha actually feels her heart skip when she sees what's on the page – her and the little girl in crayon, twirling ribbons. There are spider webs in the corners, and in the girl's big, looping handwriting at the top, it says you're my hero! Natasha lets out a breath. "With this kind of talent, you could be an artist, too."
The girl beams at her, and, on an impulse, Natasha taps her index finger to her nose, making her giggle. "Do you like it?"
"I love it," Natasha tells her, meaning it.
The parents ask to take a picture of them, and then another with Steve, and Natasha carefully holds up the drawing for the camera to see. The girl is practically bouncing down the walkway as she leaves hand-in-hand with her parents, and it's late enough that the streets are pretty much empty, so Steve shuts off the porch light before closing the door.
Natasha doesn't realize that she's still staring at the drawing until Steve gently takes it from her fingers, setting it onto the coffee table. She lets out a bit of a laugh, for no particular reason, and Steve smiles a little wider as he wraps his arms around her and draws her close.
"She adored you," he points out.
"She did," Natasha agrees, surprised. Her skin is still a little flushed as Steve presses a kiss to each cheek. "I can't imagine why."
"Because you're a hero. You're her hero," he says simply, easily, like it should be obvious. Then he leans his forehead against hers, brings a hand up to comb it through her hair and cradle the back of her head. "You're my hero, too."
"Stop," she breathes, lips twitching into a smile that she's trying to fight. "Does that mean you're going to draw me, too?"
He hums, the hand at her hip sliding upward, just under the hem of her shirt. She sucks in a soft gasp as his fingers press purposefully over her skin, dancing upward, little by little. "Well, I was thinking I could actually draw on you, but…" He trails off, fingertips brushing against the ticklish spot on her ribs. She clings onto him tighter. "If you don't want to—"
She's laughing as she cuts him off with a kiss, wraps her legs around him when he lifts her into his arms, and he stumbles them into the bedroom.
(They get paint all over the bedsheet, which makes her grin when she sees it in the morning.)
(And when she makes her way into the kitchen, she finds the little girl's drawing pinned to their fridge with a magnet. That makes her grin a little more.)