<span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#99ff99">Natasha sighed.  Given how rarely she allowed any emotion to show, it was a dramatic expression for her.  "You really have no idea what it does to him when you do that, do you?" she asked, shaking her head.  She was fully aware of each of his excursions -- she even tacitly approved.  But she would never advise him to continue trying to hide his activities from Tony.<br/>
<br/>
The man in question returned, having taken less than ten minutes to shower and change.  He hadn't put on one of his expensive suits but was instead in a pair of (miraculously unstained) jeans and an AC/DC t-shirt.  "I thought I warned you against stealing my kid," Tony snarked, poking Natasha in the shoulder.  "You're not teaching him bad habits, are you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Of course not," Natasha said, her lips twitching.  "I don't have any."<br/>
<br/>
"Right."  Tony refilled his Spiderman coffee mug and sat down next to Peter.  "Use that face on somebody who hasn't seen you steal the bowl of popcorn when Clint makes a beer run on movie night.  Or who hasn't seen you drink straight from the cranberry juice carton.  Or--"  Natasha's knife flickered through the air, landing right next to Tony's hand, embedded in the tabletop.  "You're right, of course.  You don't have any bad habits," Tony corrected, chuckling.  "I was clearly mistaken."</span></span>