Daughter
Natasha was on a mission to get her armour and weapons ready for a long day of training with Sif. She marched down the corridor of the castle, ready to sharpen her sword.
A bedroom door crashed open and the little girl shot out, wrapped her arms around Natasha's waist, and clung on tightly. "I have to be ready in ten minutes, love," Natasha said.
"No. Stay. Play."
Natasha sighed, hugged her daughter, and then, when she didn't budge, tried to unclasp the fat little hands locked tightly around her hips. The girl began to chuckle at the game: a hoarse Heh Heh Heh.
Instantly Loki appeared in the door, laughing so hard he had to hold onto the pillar framing the space. A wicked glint appeared in his eyes, and his tongue peeked out from between his teeth.
"I'm going to be late – it's not funny!" Natasha struggled to free herself.
"Dad thinks it is," the girl said.
"Dad thinks everything is funny," Natasha said in exasperation.