Natasha's eyes flickered with resignation at Peter's mocking remark.
Kids these days really aren't cute anymore.
And what's with calling me auntie and talking about dog leashes?
That's just plain nasty.
I'm still on the clock for S.H.I.E.L.D.—show a girl some respect.
But she was a battle-hardened ace and had pictured every scenario, including the target's outright refusal.
Besides, she wasn't a true American and felt no real loyalty to the flag, so she wasn't personally offended.
Seeing no need for further stealth, Natasha relaxed.
She shifted, leaning forward, chin propped lazily on one hand, green eyes studying Peter with interest.
"All right, I was clearly overthinking it."
"Why don't you list every condition for joining S.H.I.E.L.D.? I'll pass it up verbatim."
"If we hit a snag, I can take you straight to my boss after school for a face-to-face."
Natasha figured she'd been nothing but sweet.
Peter didn't soften; his answer was blunt.
"Dream on. I don't join anything."
He leaned back, arms folded, face cold.
"I won't be leashed by people or rules."
"Best I'll do is cooperate."
"I'll solve problems you can't, then you pay me what I deem fair."
The air in the office seemed to freeze.
Natasha's fingers against her cheek stiffened; the kid was unreal.
No organization, no restraints?
Who does this high-schooler think he is—God?
He believes fixing objects lets him take on the whole World?
Naive.
Peter read her mind and cut straight in.
"I know what you're thinking—arrogant little punk, right?"
"Agent Natasha, understand this…"
His stare bored into her, pressing even her seasoned nerves.
"My confidence comes from being strong enough."
He opened his right hand.
Woomph—!
A blue sphere spun violently in mid-air, screeching and warping the air around it.
The raw power snapped every hair on her body upright.
What the hell—?!
Before she could blink, he pressed the Rasengan into a desk.
Shrrrk.
No explosion—
the solid oak simply vanished into sawdust as if swallowed by a black hole.
He reached toward the pile.
Soft white light bathed the wood; seconds later an untouched desk stood exactly where it had been.
Silence.
Cold sweat dotted Natasha's forehead.
Her ironclad heart, forged through countless ops, was suddenly racing.
She got it now—this brat had every right to be cocky.
Destroy… then restore—near godlike.
At his age with that power, she'd have been worse.
Finally she found her voice, a tremor slipping through.
"You… are you even human?"
Peter grinned.
"Of course."
He chuckled, then snatched her right hand from her knee.
Instinct screamed resist, but his grip was lightning and steel; she couldn't move.
He laid her palm over his heart.
"Check for yourself if you don't believe me."
Through thin cloth, warmth and a steady, powerful beat thudded against her hand.
Feeling the hard muscle, Natasha blinked—then a flicker of embarrassment and irritation crossed her face.
Was the Little Brat flirting with her?
Screw that—she wasn't backing down.
If he wanted a feel…
Fine.
Her hand slid over his chest, biceps, abs—cough—any lower would be rude.
Seeing no reaction from him, she stopped short.
Swallowing her annoyance—and something else—she said.
"Okay, you're human. I'll relay your terms. Name them."
"Simple." He raised three fingers once she let go.
"One: don't mess with my normal life or spy on me. Cross that line and they'll pay."
Natasha nodded. "Understood. We'll pull everyone back."
"Two: I deal only with you and Director Fury. My identity stays hidden from the rest of S.H.I.E.L.D., the government, the Military—everyone, unless I say otherwise."
"That… won't be easy. Even Director Fury has to report upstairs."
"Not my problem. Fail it and we're done."
Natasha sighed inwardly—brat—and nodded.
"Got it. I'll pass it up."
"Good." Peter smiled.
"Last and most important."
"Deploy your best Agents. When I'm not home, give top-tier protection to my guardians—Uncle Ben Parker and Aunt Mei Parker.
And don't even think of using them against me. Anyone tries, I'll kill him in perfect rhythm."