It's a Spider Family. {Sequel to 'It's a Spider Thing'.}

{2} aren't you nearing retirement yet?

THERE WAS A CLANG. Some shouting. And David Bowie blasting on the radio.

Before Peter knew it, he had been rudely awoken and was shuffling his way into the rest of the apartment in search of the source of the bothersome noise whilst still half asleep. He draped Natasha's blanket over his head and wrapped it around his shoulders so it didn't trail behind him on the floor.

When he entered the kitchen, he was greeted by the sight of Clint.

The archer was wearing a frilly pink apron that the teen was fairly sure had been bought by Natasha for the older man at some point during their friendship. He was dancing to the song on the radio whilst simultaneously trying to scoop up obscene amounts of spilled cornflakes off of the counter. When he sensed Peter entering the room, Clint looked up and grinned widely as he shoved more cornflakes back into the box. "Morning Sleeping Beauty!"

For a few seconds Peter just stared sleepily at the man before replying in a deadpan voice, "Morning Beast." and hauling himself onto the nearest stool. "Where's 'Tasha?"

Clint stuck his tongue out at the nickname before shrugging and jostling the cereal box.

"Nick called her in. Something about new information for a mission or an assignment she had been working on." He nudged a bowl in front of Peter. The teen raised a single eyebrow as his attention dropped to the meal in front of him; it was practically overflowing with cornflakes whilst still somehow managing to be drowned by an ungodly amount of milk, topped with a huge heap of sugar that had been dumped on as a finishing touch.

"I fixed you breakfast. I know it's just a bowl of cereal but it's the one thing I can't burn."

Peter shuddered as he remembered Clint's abysmal attempts at cooking- they'd all failed miserably until Natasha threatened to shoot him unless he got out of her kitchen. Suddenly, he felt grateful for the bowl of cereal that had been thrust in front of him like he was on Master Chef.

"As long as I don't go into a sugar coma- thanks." Peter commented, distractedly noting that he hadn't been graced with a spoon. "Got any spoons, Chef Barton?"

"You're hilarious." Clint huffed, complying to the request by beginning to sift through the utensil drawer whilst also managing to sing offkey to the radio which was at a ridiculous volume. Rolling his eyes, Peter had to fight back the urge to laugh that was building in his chest.

"Nothing will be funnier than your face."

"Amateur insult." Cint called over his shoulder.

"At least I'm not ancient."

There was a theatrical gasp and the archer whirled around with his hand pressed dramatically against his chest. He leaned back against the counter for extra effect- it didn't work. In retaliation for Peter's barely concealed laughter, he slid a fork across the countertop with a pout.

"Good luck eating your cereal now."

"Maybe it'll filter out all of the sugar you're trying to drug me with." Peter responded dryly.

Clint's jaw dropped in protest, and he responded to the comment by turning up the radio; Peter knew the neighbours would be cursing them. "Can't hear you!"

Peter shrugged and switched off his hearing aids with an angelic smile as Clint fumed.

-

The area surrounding the Director's office was suspiciously empty.

Usually there would be an inordinate amount of people milling around the space, but when Natasha arrived, she was surprised to see only a few higher ups flitting around. Her eyes narrowed around the space as she moved forwards; she caught the eye of Maria sifting through some files. They held eye contact for a few seconds and Natasha's features smoothed out as she beelined for Fury's office.