Chapter 6

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"Why are you up still?" 14-year-old Irina looked over her shoulder, keeping the brim of the small glass of water to her dry lips. It's three in the morning.

She stood at the giant Windows that overlook the cliff side into the Pacific Ocean. "Ever since the Expo, I haven't been able to sleep," she admitted, and sighed, staring into the near empty glass in her hands.

Tony sighed heavily, "Sweetheart .  .  ." he crossed the room and placed a comforting hand on his daughter's small shoulder, and Irina met his matching brown eyes. "I never meant for you to get involved in any of this, but you're at that age where you get to know grown up things. I don't need to hide this kind of stuff from you anymore."

"Stuff that seems to be government classified stuff."

"That's not the point," Tony sighed once again. "Okay, let me try this again: I trust you —my 14-year-old daughter— with grown up, government information. Is that better?"

"That'll do, pig," Irina referenced the movie 'Babe', and reached out to pat her father's shoulder.

Tony rapidly blinked his dark brown eyes and cocked his head at a slight angle as he looked down at his daughter, "I love that movie."

"Just like you love your acronyms," Irina chuckled.

Her father made a face before he shrugged and nodded along, "I, for once, won't argue with that. But only because you're my daughter."

"Happy and Pepper absolutely loved the acronym I came up with the other day for you," Irina had this look on her face that Tony was almost unsure about wanting to know, but his curiosity always got the better of him.

"Alright, come on. Let's hear it."

"Totally, obviously—" she lowered her voice when saying 'obviously' in a teasing manner, "—never yapping."

"Ha." Her father said dryly before he's wrapping his arm around her shoulders and squeezing her tight, but not too tight. "You really are my daughter."

Irina laughed and wrapped her free arm that's not holding an empty glass around his toros. "Thanks, dad."

"For what? I didn't do anything."

"For being you," Irina said.

"Mm, I don't think you mean it. I'm arrogant. You hate arrogant."

"You're my dad. I'm kinda stuck with you forever," Irina tightened her arm around her father.

"That you are, sweetheart."



"I have to ask . . ." Irina's ripped from her intense stare on the worn buildings around. The plastic baggie of medical supplies from the gas station swing in Natasha's hand, "What happened to your resentment with gas station glasses?"

Irina spun around and walked backwards, now facing Natasha and Yelena, "Maybe I had a change of heart?"

"Pft. Stark's don't have hearts," Natasha teased.  In the right pocket of Yelena's blazer, Irina felt an object, and smirked. She didn't hesitate to chunk it in Nat's direction,"Ow. Hey!" Nat stopped, unamused; and her expression showed.

Dancing in Her Webs | Yelena Belova [1]Where stories live. Discover now