22

Peter wasn't sure how long he had been awkwardly standing there but it was probably too long. He had intended to get some breakfast, however that plan was forgotten. Without his sugary sustenance, he was still half asleep and slow.

This would probably explain how Peter got to the point of having a gun pointed at him. (Honestly all he did was yawn, screw his eyes shut, open them, and BAM there's a gun!)

"Um, hi?" Peter tried nervously.
It half worked, since he managed to earn a reply from the scary stranger, "Who are you?"

"Who am I?!" Peter asked, outraged, "Who are YOU??? No offense: you don't live here. I just see you on a couch whilst on my way to get some Lucky Charms...or was it Fruit Loops? Ooh what if I mix them together! Forget you heard that. Yeah so I was just going about my day and suddenly there's a stranger who's pointing a gun at me! That isn't very nice, you know. And it's not polite to break in to places either!"

"Hey, hold on a minute!" Rude gun lady protested, "I did not break in! I was invited. Even if I wasn't, I am much too talented to break anything!"
"Oh ok, sorry," Petey apologized.
"AND I was just trying to lie down for a bit, you didn't have to creepily watch me! But anyway, answer my question, who are you?"

Peter knew about stranger danger. He knew a lot. He had been made to sit through a whole talk to make sure he wouldn't just trust people he didn't know because they promised they weren't pedophiles.
Peter knew, very well, that he should not tell this stranger his name.

Taking a deep breath, he harnessed all the wisdom and common sense Doctor Strange had instilled in him, "I, Peter Benjamin Parker, am far too intelligent to fall for that and give my name too someone I don't know. Why don't you tell me yours?"

Ok that didn't have the desired effect. Why was scary lady looking amused?

"I won't tell you my name because I don't know if I can trust you yet, Peter Benjamin Parker."
"HOW DID YOU FIND OUT MY NAME?! Wait... Oh man Mr Doctor Strange is gonna be so mad if he finds out I did it again! And fine, until you tell me your name, I'll just call you Scary Russian Lady Who's Pointing A Gun At My Face.

For whatever reason, this made Scary Russian Lady Who's Pointing A Gun At My Face roll her eyes.

"Can't I just go and get some cereal?" Peter pleaded.
"No."
"Why not!?!?!?"
"Because no!"

Peter would have said of an amazing, soul-crushing quip to counter with, thus establishing that he was a man to be taken seriously, had his stomach not intervened first, lettings out its own hangry growl.

The starving baby spider looked up at the mean Russian lady with desperate eyes, begging for mercy. She, in turn, raised her eyebrows, sighed, and got something out of her pocket (boy did she have a lot of pockets!).

"I'm not letting you go anywhere. If you're really hungry and it will stop your endless whining then you can have this," she offered, tossing Peter a cereal bar.

He quickly checked the ingredients to make sure there wouldn't be any spider unfriendly components, then the integrity of the wrapper to be sure it was sealed properly and hopefully not poisoned.

Glancing suspiciously at the intruder, Peter opened it a took a bite.

Still chewing, he noted, "It's dry. Really dry..."
"I know," she answered, hints of mirth in her tone, "but hey, it's ancient, apparently, and not mine."

"Ok but PLEASE can I get some good cereal?! I can even make you pancakes if you want!"
"What, no!"
"Oh, come on!"
"I gave you a cereal bar! Don't be so ungrateful!"
"I'm not being uNgRaTeFuL!!!"
"YES, YOU ARE!"
"WHY SHOULD I BE GRATEFUL WHEN YOU'RE HOLDING ME HOSTAGE!"
"THERE IS NO NEED TO SHOUT!"
"I'M HANGRY!!! WHAT'S YOUR EXCUSE?!"
"YOU ARE EXHAUSTING!"
"I JUST WANTED A FRUIT LOOPS LUCKY CHARMS COCKTAIL, IS THAT SO MUCH TO ASK?!"
"AAAAARGH! THAT IS A TERRIBLE IDEA ANYWAY, GET OVER IT!"
"ALRIGHT THAT'S IT!" Peter exclaimed.

Thankfully, he was wearing his web shooters, otherwise who knows what he would have tried. Peter shot a web at the gun, blocking the end and pulling it out of the lady's hand.

For a moment she stood there in stunned silence before crying out, "What the hell was that?!"

Peter had no chance to reply though, as he had to quickly dodge whatever crazy attack this psycho was about to do.

He hastily shot a web at her face to distract her, however he didn't think it would take her long to get rid of it.
Panicking, Peter hopped up onto the ceiling behind her and crouched there, hoping she wouldn't find him and he'd have time to crawl away to his fruit loops.

Rather irritatingly, it seemed this meany was very skilled and soon spotted him making his escape.

"What are you doing?" asked she, sounding slightly confused.
"Umm.....escaping?" Peter questioned, like he was wanting approval.
"Nope, I don't think so." Russian spy said, frustrated by his antics.

She then had the nerve to throw a knife at him! Luckily, it was a proper assassin-y knife and not a butter knife, or things would have gone much worse.

Peter tried to avoid it by jumping away, and he had a 50% success rate. He failed to realise there was a second knife so as he leapt away from the first knife, he crossed the path of the second, which impaled his shirt and pinned him to the wall.

"Are you kidding me?" He said, dangling awkwardly.

The evil, horrible Russian then took an odd dart thing out of one of her many pockets and dipped the tip in a chemical solution, "I'm sorry, I wouldn't usually do this but I don't know how much more of you I can take..."

Peter quickly caught on to what she was going to do and was having none of it. He refused to be tranquilized just because he wanted breakfast!

Whilst the bread crust of humanity was preoccupied with getting a safe amount of anaesthetic, Peter took the opportunity to shoot several webs at her hands, sticking them to the couch.

"You are infuriating." she deadpanned.

Before Peter could give a scathing reply, somebody else entered the room, talking, "Alright, so I've got some medical supplies, sorry but if you need a bandaid then they're kids ones. Mom and Dad called, they've gotten back safely. There is macaroni and cheese in the kitchen, but you can't make it yet because it's breakfast and Melina insists it is not suitabl-"

A very confused Natasha quickly got over her speechlessness, "Okay, what???"

"He/She started it!" both of the suspects exclaimed at the same time, resulting in them glaring at eachother.

Natasha looked between one idiot hanging by a knife and another idiot webbed to a couch, eyebrows raised.

"Ребенок Паук, get down from there and unstick her," she sighed, removing the knives from the wall.
"But who is she Мама?" Peter queried, but did as he was told nonetheless.

Glancing between a confused Peter and the stranger in question, who now wore a quizzical expression as she studied the interaction, Natasha slowly revealed, "This is my sister: Yelena. Yelena, this is Peter, my son."

"Hiii!" Yelena waved at Peter, who nervously waved back. "Wait what do you mean your son?!"

Natasha let out an exasperated sigh and said, "You're really gonna make me explain everything?"
"Well, yeah. You're supposed to have had your uterus snatched so what the hell happened?!" Yelena countered.

"Right... So you know how you were completely brainwashed and I wasn't? Think of it like that. They just didn't sterilise Widows that way when it was my time."
"You cannot be serious."
"Well of course not but the author has really been cornered since the movie was released so you'll just have to pretend it makes sense!"
"Uh huh..." murmured Yelena as she eyed the small and irritating child.

"So, if you're Мама's sister, then why has she never mentioned you?" Peter asked nervously.
Yelena gasped and whipped her head to look at her traitor of a sister, "You never mentioned me‽ Wow. I feel so unwanted. I should just go..."

"I was going to tell him at some point! There's just not an easy way to say that I had a sister for an undercover mission I was on when I was 11 but once our 'parents' successfully crippled the American government and stole their science me and my 6 year old fake sister were thrown through some human trafficking shit into the Red Room and I never saw her again!" Natasha ranted.

"Well..." Peter began solemnly, "that sucks."
Yelena nodded, "Yeah...alright I'll allow it. But I can tell your kid about all the dumb stuff you did!"
"What dumb stuff?!" Peter and Natasha both yelled with varying levels of horror and excitement.

Yelena laughed with an evil glint in her eye, "For starters, blue hair."

"No way!" Peter grinned, just as Natasha also cried out, "Don't you dare!"

From another of the many, many, totally awesome and useful pockets, Yelena pulled out a photo strip and showed it to Peter before Natasha could stop her.
Peter's eyes widened and he did his absolute best not to laugh, though he failed spectacularly.

However under the scrutiny of her glare, he tried to compose himself and say through stifled laughter, "I think that colour really suits you. You should do it like that again. And maybe Aunty Scary Russian Lady Who Was Pointing A Gun At My Face could dye her hair too!"

Yelena's smirk was quickly wiped away as Natasha said, "You know, you did keep trying to persuade Melina to let you have pink hair..."
"I still don't think it was fair. You were allowed blue hair, why wasn't I allowed pink?" Yelena complained.
"Because you were only six."
"Oh sureee six is more than old enough to become a trained killer but too young for pink hair!"
"Would you rather have been trained as a killer from younger than that and then be allowed to dye your hair for an undercover mission?!"
"I dOn'T kNoW?! MAYBE!!!"
"ARE YOU SERIOUSLY SUGGESTING YOU'D HAVE CHOSEN EVEN MORE YEARS IN TH-"

*crunch*

Slowly, dangerously, Natasha and Yelena look up from their argument and turn towards the source of the noise: Peter.

During their squabble, he had excused himself to finally, at long last, make himself the Franken-cereal he deserved. Then, knowing better than to miss a good hostile disagreement, he had returned to watch them fight.

"What?" he asked, with his mouth full of Lucky Charms and Fruit Loops, "You want some?"

"Peter, please go back to your room while I stitch up our lovely guest," Natasha slowly spoke, while Yelena smiled cheesily.
"But what about my food?!" he queried incredulously.
"Just take it with you. Take the box if you need to. Oh, and if you see anyone on your way, make sure they don't come in here for a bit. But don't tell them about Yelena or her being my sister; I'll explain that to everyone later. Got it?"

Peter saluted, and marched into the kitchen to fetch several boxes of cereal, a toaster, and some poptarts (you can't be too prepared) and marched back through to the door.

Before leaving, to make sure he didn't forget his manners he checked, "Do either of you want some of this? This is the last box of poptarts..."
"What's a poptart?" Yelena spoke the blasphemy.

Peter immediately froze, then put the toaster down, plugged it in, and threw a poptart in and tossed another still in its packet to Yelena, "You need these more than I do. Can be eaten hot or cold, up to you. Much better than the ancient cereal bars."

The last comment earnt a small scowl from Natasha but Peter didn't notice as he was already leaving.

Natasha let out a small sigh of relief before tensing again as she heard Peter and Harley's voices from down the hall, "HARLEY, STOP! YOU CAN'T GO IN THERE! THERE'S A SCARY MEAN RUSSIAN LADY WHO WAS POINTING A GUN AT MY FACE!"
"SOUNDS LEGIT BUT DID YOU AT LEAST GET FOOD?!"
"FRUIT LOOPS AND LUCKY CHARMS! I SURRENDERED THE LAST BOX OF POPTARTS AS SCARY RUSSIAN LADY WHO POINTED A GUN AT MY FACE HAD NEVER HAD ONE!"
"YOU'RE A TRUE HERO, PETER!"

Just when Natasha thought it couldn't get any worse, Yelena decided to yell, "THESE ARE AMAZING! THANK YOU WEIRD WEBBY CHILD!"

It was at that moment that Natasha realised having Peter and Yelena near eachother could be very, very dangerous.