Author's Note: So, yeah…this update took a while. Once I updated everything that needed updating, and dealing with real life, I got through this a little faster than normal. Also, it's actually longer than I assumed it would be. So, I decided to split it. The next chapter is still being finished and should hopefully be up by the end of the week at the earliest (I won't lie, I'm working on a holiday fanfic for a different movie at the same time). So please watch your inboxes for the next update.

Please enjoy…

Natasha was sitting in the small coffee shop in Hell's Kitchen. She was busying herself on the tablet she had borrowed off a tourist in Midtown who wasn't paying attention on the subway earlier. She overheard him and his wife saying that they hoped they, and their kids, didn't miss the ferry to the Statue of Liberty. The husband said he wasn't going to use the tablet until they got there since he didn't know if he'd charged it enough, so she figured that she was okay for at least an hour until he noticed it was gone. She was happy to see that he at least got the battery into the low eighties. She was reading over a PDF of the Sokovia Accords, most notably looking for anything regarding exemptions. She wasn't finding any.

"Here you go," said the waitress as she placed a sandwich and a cup of coffee in front of her.

"Thank you," Natasha said without looking up.

"Need anything else, ma'am?" the waitress asked.

"Not right now, thank you." The waitress smiled and left her to her early lunch. Natasha looked a little longer, then used the key word search in an attempt to narrow things down. "Damn it," she muttered, "There has to be a loophole."

"Loophole?" came the voice from the booth behind her. Natasha turned and was about to politely tell the stranger to go back to his food, when she saw him raise his hands. "Sorry, occupational reflex. I hear the word loophole and my instincts kick in. I'm a lawyer," he chuckled at the end. Natasha was skeptical, if not for the long hair alone, but decided not to say anything.

"Are you a good lawyer?"

"I do okay," he answered.

Natasha turned in her booth until she could lean her arm on the top of the seat and face him. "You heard of the Sokovia Accords?" she asked him. He nodded. "I've been trying to find a way of having it not apply to someone, but it's not working as well as I hoped."

"Not apply to…you? Or to someone else?" he asked the redhead as he turned to lean his back against the wall and face her better.

"Someone else. A kid…well, a teenager."

The lawyer leaned over and noticed the tablet. I wouldn't need a downloaded copy, he thought, thinking he could just find a copy of it online himself if the version she had was any indication. "Your teenager?" he prodded, trying to glean whatever info he could.

Natasha shook her head. "Just a friend."

"How about I take a look, and see if there's a loophole than can be exploited?"

"As much help as that would be, I couldn't ask that."

"You're not, I'm volunteering," he said. "Just give me a day or two to read over it, and see if I can't find you…something."

"And how much is this consultation going to cost?" Natasha asked.

"Pro bono," he answered. "Just getting to help out the little guy again for once."

Natasha eyed him warily. Years of spy work had left her slightly jaded of offers of free help. But years of working around certain Avengers had left her with a sense that some people really did want to help, and not want anything from it. "I'll email you the file," she relented. "Got a card."

The lawyer reached into his jacket and handed her his business card. "Franklin Nelson," she read out loud.

"Just call me Foggy," he chuckled.

Natasha smiled and held out her hand. "Nadia Richards," she introduced herself. Foggy shook her hand. "Thank you. So when should I…?"

"Call me tomorrow night. I'll let you know where we can meet to discuss what I find."

Peter was sitting in Spanish class waiting for the day to end. It was his last period of the day and he was itching to get out there and start patrolling. He should been paying attention to the lesson instead of his current task, texting Tony.

Peter: Hey Mr. Stark, it's Peter...Parker. Just letting you know I'll be patrolling after school for a while. So if you need me, I'm free.

Peter: Just in case you had a mission that needed handling after I get out.

Peter: I get out at 2:45.

Peter: ...pm.

"Seńor Parker," he heard the teacher call him. He fumbled his phone in his hand for a fraction of a second before looking back up.

"Si, sir," he said, shaking his head. "I mean, yes, Seńor…uh…"

"Put it away."

Peter nodded. He glanced at the clock on the phone's screen as he slid it into his pocket – 2:23. A little over twenty minutes to go, he thought. He was trying to focus on the teacher talking about past tense verb usage when he felt his phone vibrate. He waited until the teacher's back was to him to slip his phone back out. He activated the screen, hoping that Mr. Stark had finally responded, only to be somewhat deflated when he saw that it wasn't him. He was, however, happy to see that it was from someone else.

BW: When do you get out of school?

Peter: 2:45

BW: Does your aunt pick you up?

Peter: No. Subway.

BW: Not today. Look for a black Camaro.

Peter: Why?

There was no further response. Two and a half weeks since he'd gotten back from Germany and this was only the third time she'd gotten in contact with him. The first was a few days after he got back. She was checking up on his injured eye like she said she would and if everything had gone okay with his aunt when he got back. The second was because she had, apparently, been keeping tabs on the New York news, looking into anything regarding a Spider-Man. She wanted to know if Tony had been putting him up to all that. When he told her he wasn't, she asked him to be careful since she figured trying to get him to stop would be something she should try in person.

Before he knew it, the bell was ringing, ending the day. He grabbed his backpack and began walking out.

"Hey, Peter," he heard and turned to see Ned walking up to him. "Coming to decathlon?" he asked hopefully.

"Sorry, I got the –"

"Stark internship," Ned finished for him. "I think they'd get it if you told them," he said as he followed Peter out and into the front of the school.

"What I'm…what they have me doing is important," Peter told him as he began scanning the circle drive in front of the school. His eyes settled on the aforementioned black Camaro parked near the middle of the block – or rather a Camaro parked in the middle of the block. There was a second one parked there as well, the both of them separated by a large SUV. He walked toward them, Ned following close behind him. The first Camaro had a fifty-ish looking guy in it, and Peter had to resist the urge to tell him to stop checking out the senior girls – at least he hoped it was the senior girls. As he was about to start heading to the second Camaro, he heard a voice.

"Hey you, I'm here to pick up a baby genius in a nerd tee. Know where I can find one?"

Peter looked up to see Natasha standing next to her car. He looked at Ned and almost broke out laughing when he saw that Ned's face was wide-eyed and slacked-jawed.

"Cat got you tongue there?" she asked him. Ned looked down and saw that his shirt was a solid color and then looked at Peter. He pointed at Peter's shirt which had a decal of the words "think like a proton - stay positive" circling an atom. "Ready Peter?"

Ned's eyes got even wider. "She's here for you?" he asked in shock. Peter just raised his eyebrows. "She's hotter than Liz," Ned said, dropping his head when he realized he said that louder than meant to. Peter just clapped his friend on the shoulder and started and walking toward Natasha's car. "Can I come?" he whispered to Peter as he was passing him.

"Don't you got decathlon?"

"I can skip it."

"Have fun, buddy," Peter said as he got into the car. Natasha was settling into her seat as well. "What?" Peter asked as he saw Natasha looking at him while he finished putting on his seat belt.

"Who's Liz?" Natasha asked with a smirk.

"A girl."

"Is she pretty?" Peter rolled his eyes. "Have you talked to her?"

"Oh my God," Peter groaned under his breath. "Ned, I'm gonna kill you."

"Do you want me to talk to her for you?" Natasha smiled, trying not to laugh at the fun she was having.

"Can we just go do…whatever it is you have planned?"

"So when did you get in town?" Peter asked as he and Natasha sat in the pizzeria in Brooklyn.

"Yesterday," she told him as she took a drink to wash down her latest bite. "So, how have you been?"

Peter gave a slight shrug. "Not too bad. Just trying to make sure I don't fall behind in a few classes because of patrolling."

"Patrolling? You mean ending up on YouTube?" Natasha pressed him.

Peter looked around and leaned into the table. "I…I can't help it if someone films me stopping a mugging, or a robbery," he defended himself.

Natasha looked at him and then gave a small smile. "I enjoyed the one of a store owner trying to shove a sandwich to you after…"

"Stopping the guys who were robbing him." Peter smiled and almost felt like blushing from the memory. "You watch the videos?"

Natasha nodded. "I said I'd be keeping tabs on you. The videos help. Did you really stop a car from hitting a bus?"

"That was before Mr. Stark gave me the suit, but yeah." He chuckled, and looked a little above Natasha's head.

"So, you what, just go around, swinging away until you find something or someone to stop?"

"I like to help. And the store owner, that was…I don't ask for things, but sometimes people insist, and I don't want to be rude. And that guy makes awesome sandwiches."

Natasha let out a small laugh. Seeing Peter in his element, and more importantly, seeing that excitable nature of his, it was refreshing from the past couple of weeks. From laying low, to changing routines, to trying and find Steve to see if it's even possible to salvage that relationship, well, the stresses were building and old spy habits were taking over – namely the ease at which she was cutting herself off and switching completely into survival mode. But watching this kid become animated over a sandwich, it was a catharsis she needed, small as it was.

"Sandwiches and web slinging aside, let's get back on the topic of school," she said. "Namely the topic of a girl named Liz."

Peter rolled his eyes and let his head drop and hang. He could hear Natasha giggling from his reaction. I hate you, Ned, I really do, he thought as he brought his head back up. Natasha was looking at him with a positively wicked grin.

"You never answered my question," Natasha told him. Peter stared back, puzzled, not remembering anything being asked while they were eating. "Is she pretty?"

Peter tried to play off the question with a laugh, but it just came out sounding far more awkward. "Do you really want to talk about me liking – I mean about a girl I think is –" Peter stammered, stopping as he realized he was still giving Natasha the kind of response she wanted. He dropped his head again, this time pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Yes, and yes," Natasha answered excitedly.

Peter took a drink of his soda, and then looked at Natasha. "She's a senior," he began.

"Older woman, huh?" Natasha smiled, this time more genuinely.

"Uh, yeah. We're on the decathlon team together. But uh, um, she doesn't…I don't think she even knows I'm alive."

"I highly doubt that," Natasha said with a self-assured nod. Peter scoffed. "Don't sell yourself short Peter. I wouldn't be surprised if she's taken some notice. Have you talked to her?"

"Y-yeah, at decathlon."

Natasha shook her head. "No, I mean have you talked to her. Not about school, about decathlon, about…well, anything other than that?"

"Are you trying to play matchmaker?" Peter asked in disbelief.

"Not the first time I've done it," she raised her eyebrows cockily. She saw him smile forcefully. "You want some advice, or not?" she deadpanned at that smile. Peter acquiesced and motioned for her to go ahead. "Girls like it when you're honest and when you're genuine. They like compliments and they like especially like it when you notice they've intentionally changed something."

Peter looked at her seriously. Then questioningly. Then his eyes widened. She isn't just taking about Liz, he thought.

"I didn't want to say anything since I figured you…," Peter trailed off.

"Since I?"

Peter looked around and then leaned into the table. "I figured you didn't want attention since you did it because you're…on the run?"

"Figured it out, did you?"

"We talked about it in class. And they – some kind of international cops – actually tried to talk to me in Germany after someone said you were talking to me at the hospital, but, uh, Mr. Stark kept them away from me. Told them what would a teenager know about where you might go."

Thank you, Tony, she thought.

"It looks good, though, your hair. Not them not knowing where you are. But that's good, too," Peter rattled off. Now that's refreshing to see and hear again, Natasha thought. "So where are you staying?"

"I got a safe house somewhere. I had to pick some stuff up," she told him. "It's where I did this," she revealed. Peter twitched his eyebrow in disbelief. "Pair of scissors and a box of Clairol. One of my better sink jobs," she grinned.

"So, what happened? I thought you were on Mr. Stark's side? And signed the whole Accords thing," Peter questioned. Natasha took a deep breath and looked around, surveilling the immediate area. She leaned into the table, Peter doing the same to keep her from having to speak too loudly.

"Things get complicated out in the field, Pete," she began. "Decisions get made that…sometimes, even if you are on the side everyone says is the right side, don't agree with that side. While I agreed, at the time, with the Accords, I also trusted in my friends. Steve – Captain America – was so sure that there was a bigger threat, someone pulling the strings to make us believe that the Winter Soldier was guilty. I don't place trust in a lot of people. I say I do, but really, I always have a little doubt in the back of my mind that makes me prepare a contingency. But with Steve, what you see is mostly what you get. If he believed his friend was framed after finding some evidence, then…even I have to doubt if bringing him in was the best move at the time."

"Why didn't you tell Mr. Stark if you believed him so much?"

Natasha smiled, shook her head slightly, and took a quick drink. "Once Tony Stark makes up his mind, he's made up his mind. He doesn't leave room for doubt, usually until the dust has settled and he has the fallout to deal with. Letting Steve and Bucky go, was not the smartest decision, but it was the right one; even if Iron Man himself didn't know it at the time."

"So, what happens now?" Peter asked as picked at slice of pepperoni on his plate.

"I lay low. I check up on you from time to time," she smirked with a playful kick to his leg under the table. "And I try and see if my friends will still talk to me."

Peter looked around and ran his fingers through his hair. "I think…I think they'll still talk to you. If you trusted them, then they don't have a reason not to."

God, how I wish could think like this kid, even for just a day, Natasha thought.