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Best. Uncle. Ever.

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Jensen is a sucker for little girls who look like his sister. Not in an evil pedophile kind of way. In an Uncle Jake kind of way. Which is why he not only proudly wears the fuchsia t-shirt, but also goes to every game he can and picks her up at school and makes her lunch when his sister can't.

He takes her to see the new Avengers movie and she falls in love. With every one of the guys. Jake doesn't think any of them are good enough for her, but he indulges her when she expresses a longing to be Black Widow, a badass woman among men.

(Jake knows at least one woman who fits that description, but he hasn't shared that information with anyone outside the Losers. She might track him down and kill him.)

She decides to be the Widow for Halloween this year. Her mom lets her buy temporary hair coloring, and they find boots and a black jumpsuit at the thrift stores. Jake rigs up a belt like the one Widow wore in Iron Man II, with scary-looking loops of wire and throwing stars (which her mom says she'll use on Jake if anyone gets hurt, so he super-glues them onto the belt just in case).

Jake loves Halloween. Usually he goes round with the kids while his sister holds the fort at her house. He prefers to masquerade as something undead or evil or both (hey, not *all* zombies have to be bad). This year, though, he's inspired.

His niece tries to whine, bully, and weasel out of him details of his costume, but Jake has held his ground against William Roque, and he just looks up at the sky and changes the subject.

He's collected his outfit and props and grown his hair out a little, and on October 31 he's scheduled to pick up his niece from school. He decides to walk her home, less than a mile, since his character wouldn't condescend to be seen in the American classic Jake drives. (At least it's American.)

Jake stands in front of the mirror and prepares to make the ultimate sacrifice.

"It'll grow back," he promises himself. "Always does. It's for the kids, Jensen."

He carefully performs surgery on his facial hair, then puts in the contact lenses he rarely wears. He lightened his hair a couple of days ago and has been wearing his baseball cap to avoid comment thereon.

He combs his hair to the side and plasters it with hairspray, then goes to put on the costume. When he looks in the mirror he's stunned at the resemblance he thought was fairly superficial.

"Well," he says. "Here we go."

He takes back streets to the school and gets there just as the final bell rings. The same unself-consciousness that enables him to wear the Petunias' pink serves him well; he sets down the prop and leans on the low brick wall in front of the school entrance.

The first kids who bolt out of the front gates either grin and wave or freeze in their tracks. If this were middle or high school they'd probably be rolling their eyes, but this is the perfect age for this costume and he grins right back.

When he catches sight of his niece's carrot top (it turned out orange instead of dark russet, but she doesn't mind, she has the kick-ass costume), he picks up his prop and plants a hand on his hip and stands straight and tall. The moment she spots him, she stops dead in the middle of the throng and her mouth drops open, and that's the whole reason for Jake's efforts, a reward beyond the admiration of his peers.

"Uncle Jake!!" she screams and runs up, and he picks her up and swings her around and then sets her down so she can dart around him, examining the suit.

"It's perfect," she gloats. "I told you you look just like him."

She flings her arms around his waist, his little badass chick, and the other kids crowd around to admire. The comment he treasures most, besides the Widow's approval, is when he hears what one boy says to her:

"Wait, what? Your uncle is - Captain America?!"