Tony had always been one for dramatic entrances, but today was relatively quiet as he strolled into the Avengers Tower with his four-year-old daughter, you, in tow. Dressed in a little Iron Man hoodie and clutching a stuffed bunny, you were a curious and lively child who seemed to have one particular mission: win over Natasha Romanoff.

Unfortunately, Natasha wasn’t interested.

From the moment you toddled into the common room, wide-eyed and grinning, Natasha gave you a polite but curt smile before returning to cleaning her weapons. Children weren’t exactly her strong suit, and she didn’t understand why you seemed fixated on her of all people.

"Nat!" you chirped, waddling up to her side with unshakable determination. You plopped down beside her on the floor, legs crossed, your bunny hugged tightly to your chest.

"Hi." she replied, not looking up from the handgun she was assembling.

“Whatcha doing?” you asked, tilting your head to the side.

“Working.” Natasha said simply.

“Can I help?”

"No."

Most kids would’ve backed off after that, but not you. Wherever Natasha went that day, you were close behind. She moved to the training room; you trailed her. She sat at the table with Steve for a briefing; you sat a few feet away, doodling in a coloring book and glancing up at her every few seconds. You even tried to hand her a crayon at one point, which she ignored.

“Natasha doesn’t bite.” Tony teased when he caught you trailing behind her yet again later in the afternoon.

“Not unless she has to.” Natasha quipped, giving Tony a sharp look that did nothing to deter you.