Based on the Steve/Natasha hospital scene from CATWS

"Mama, how do you spell baseball?" a four-year-old James asked his mother innocently. He had been sitting on the floor of their living room, coloring in his book. Meanwhile, Natasha had been sitting on the couch, trying to (unsuccessfully) read a book. She kept getting distracted by her son. Just watching him color put a smile on her face. James was drawing a picture of himself and Steve having a catch on their front lawn. He had been very invested in his creation—his little brow creased in concentration in a way that made him look exactly like his father.

"B-a-s-e-b-a-l-l," Natasha spelled out slowly for her son as he wrote it in his blocky, four-year-old handwriting. Natasha held back a laugh as James wrote his "S" backwards. He smiled proudly and inspected his finished picture.

"Do you like it Mama? It's Daddy and me!" James asked excitedly, launching himself at his mother and holding out the picture for her to see.

"It's beautiful, baby. But where are Lucy and I?"

"It's a boys only picture," James stated as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "And Daddy plays with me and this is for him."

"Well I know he's going to love it," Natasha smiled, poking her son in the stomach to make him react. James squealed happily. Everything about her son reminded Natasha of Steve—from his clear blue eyes to his budding artistic abilities, everything about James was his father. The only thing of herself that she saw in James was the fact that he was left-handed.

Steve had gone to the Tower in New York for the weekend, and Lucy had begged him to let her come. Steve couldn't deny her pleading (he's a sucker for his daughter's antics), and agreed to bring her along. That left Natasha and James alone for the weekend.

The small boy put his picture neatly on the coffee table before climbing into Natasha's lap. She knew all too well that James' innocence and attachment to her wouldn't last forever, so she cherished every moment with him that she could get. "Can we have cuddle time Mama?" James asked sweetly.

Natasha's heart would've melted if it could have. "Of course we can, мальчик. But first, we're going to eat dinner, and then, a certain little boy needs a bath."

"No Mama!" James said with a crooked grin. "I don't want a bath!"

"Sorry James. No cuddles until you get cleaned up," Natasha almost scoffed at how sappy she sounded. The only time she would allow this to happen was if she was alone, or with Steve.

James considered his options for a moment before sighing. "Okay."

"What do you want for dinner?"

"Pizza!" James half-shouted (pizza was their Friday night ritual). "Because I only like it when Daddy cooks."

"That's not very nice, mister," Natasha stood with James in her arms, tickling him. "Come on, I'll order pizza while we fill up the tub."

Getting James to peacefully take a bath was (usually) not an easy feat. However, he decided to be cooperative tonight. Therefore, it only took Natasha an hour to bathe James and get his pajamas on. Okay, she may have drug it out a little. Watching James play with his little boats and bath toys was just too amusing to pass up on. She even joined in playing with him, only upon his request, of course. She helped him search for buried treasure, find pirates, and fend off bad guys among other things. If Natasha was being completely honest with herself, she had fun playing with her son. His imagination and innocence reminded her of the childhood that she never had, and she was beyond thrilled that she was playing a part in giving her son what she missed out on.

After their bath (Natasha wound up getting soaked as well), Natasha dressed James in a pair of green dinosaur pajamas.

"Can we eat now Mama?" he asked, adding in a "please" as he remembered his manners.

"Of course," Natasha smiled and ruffled his still-wet hair. "Let's go have some pizza."

After their relatively quiet dinner, Natasha got James settled on the couch under his Buzz Lightyear blanket. His little body barely took up one cushion, so she sat down on the other side of the couch. Unsurprisingly, he soon crawled into her lap and snuggled up against her.

"Is this cuddle time?" Natasha asked. James nodded his head yes. "What do you want to watch?"

"Can we watch Daddy's channel?" James asked tiredly, and Natasha suspected that it wouldn't be long before he crashed.

"Sure, if that's what you want," Natasha wrapped her arm around James and switched the channel. The History Channel—Steve's favorite channel—was recognized by James and Lucy as "Daddy's channel". Surprisingly, the twins enjoyed watching documentaries with their father, and James always wanted to follow in his father's footsteps.

Natasha spread out along the couch, laying James down on top of her. Accidentally, the hem of her tank top rode up. Evidently, James wasn't as tired as Natasha suspected, for he quickly asked her a question.

"What's that, Mama?" his little hand was resting over the rigid mark on the left side of her abdomen.

Natasha sighed, "that's a scar, мальчик."

"A scar?" James asked, obviously confused.

"Yes. A scar is something that people get when they've been hurt," she tried to put it in simple terms for the sake of her son.

"But Daddy doesn't have a scar," James stated. Natasha hated every second of this. James' innocence played into one of her biggest insecurities. How does one explain Red Room treatments, super soldier serums, and a Russian assassin's ploy to a four-year-old?

"Well, Daddy is different. When people get hurt or cut badly, or they need an operation, sometimes the cut heals like this," she pointed to the prominent scar James seemed to be so fascinated with.

"...he shot him through me. Soviet slug. No rifling."

"Sometimes," she continued, anticipating more questions. "Scars are tiny or you can't see them very well. You have a scar too, James."

"I do?" he asked a little too excitedly for her liking.

"Yes. It's right here," she pointed to a spot just about his right eye. "But you don't remember when you got hurt and why you have a scar—you were just a baby. Your scar is small, so people don't really notice it. Mama has more than one scar. And this one," she once again motioned to the scar (that James was feeling with his finger), "is a big scar and it's not very pretty."

"Bye bye bikinis"

"I like it Mama," James said, still fascinated by the rough piece of scar tissue. "We match and it makes you look pretty."

Natasha was amazed. She was amazed, and relieved, and so, so enchanted by her son all at once. Natasha's scars were one of the main insecurities she had with herself. They symbolized her past—so much pain and destruction. Of course, Steve had made her feel better about herself and her markings, but that insecurity would always remain. Natasha's scars were like her secrets, and she rarely shared. The only people that knew about most of them (and where they came from) were Clint and her husband. To hear reassurance that her son loved her, and her scars, was overwhelming. His declaration represented all that is good and pure about him.

"Thank you so much, мальчик," Natasha lightly kissed the top of James' head.

"I want more scars so I can be like you Mama," James declared innocently.

Natasha gave him a small smile, "No you don't James. Just be careful for me, okay? And for Daddy, too. We love you so much, and we never want to see anything happen to you or your sister. Okay?" Natasha wasn't sure if her four-year-old actually understood her or not, but it was worth a shot.

"Okay Mama. But can we watch now? I want to tell Daddy what he's missing."