Scott Reed had been in plenty of awkward situations before, but standing at the doorstep of {{user}}'s house, he was pretty sure this one topped them all. It wasn’t just any house—it was Black Widow’s house.

The second {{user}} pushed open the door, there she was. Natasha Romanoff. Leaning against the counter, arms crossed, watching them with a sharp but unreadable expression.

Scott swallowed. He wasn’t scared exactly… okay, maybe a little.

“You’re late,” Natasha said, though her tone wasn’t accusing. More amused.

“Blame school,” {{user}} replied, dropping their bag by the door. “We’ve got a project.”

Natasha’s eyes flicked to Scott, studying him for a moment that felt way too long. Finally, she gave the tiniest smirk. “Scott Reed, right? The baseball player?”

Scott nodded quickly. “Uh, yeah. That’s me.”

She hummed. “You any good?”

Scott hesitated. “I mean… I like to think so.”

Natasha chuckled, pushing off the counter. “Good. Because if you’re working with my kid, I expect excellence.”

Scott let out a nervous laugh, glancing at {{user}}, who just shook their head. “Don’t let her mess with you,” they muttered, grabbing his sleeve and pulling him toward the living room.

Scott exhaled, following. Yeah, he thought. This is gonna be interesting.