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

{6} tacos in the rain

WHEN NATASHA EXITED HER BEDROOM THE NEXT MORNING, she was surprised to find a sleeping Hawkeye on her couch with his limbs hanging over the edge and a cushion barely under his head with a set of hearing aids discarded on the coffee table haphazardly.

"At least you bothered to take them out this time." She mumbled fondly, walking past.

As usual, it was the smell of freshly brewed coffee that seemed to rouse Clint from his sleeping state. He blinked around, sniffing the air a few times before drowsily wandering into the kitchen, deaf to the world since he had deemed putting his hearing aids on too much of an effort for his lazy morning. Natasha tutted, fully aware of his lack of ability to hear her disdain so she settled on shooting him a pointed look which he promptly ignored in favour of snatching the mug straight from her hands.

'Idiot' she signed in front of his face before taking it back and walking away.

The mug was another of Peter's. The design was of a snitch from Harry Potter and the words, 'I'm a catch' printed underneath was a dead giveaway- Natasha was certain that was a matching one at the tower for Harley as some kind of anniversary gift. Happily, the assassin dropped onto the couch whilst simultaneously scooping up the tablet from the floor and pulling her legs to her chest as she got comfortable. A few minutes later Clint walked back into the room with the actual coffee pot in his hands, making Natasha scowl on instinct more than anything.

When he finally put in his hearing aids she muttered, "Very hygienic." Clint shrugged as the redhead side eyed him for another minute. "Didn't think you'd come over."

"Me neither." Clint admitted, running a hand down his face. "But it's bigger than us right now."

His jaw flexed and then relaxed again as Natasha studied him intently. His reaction to her decision had rocked her slightly, made her second guess- not many people had that ability. Instead of voicing her trepidation, all the woman offered in response was a single head nod as she sipped from her coffee before Natasha eventually handed over the device. "My research, and our identities."

"It's not that deep of a mission Nat." Clint commented, ignoring the jab to his ribs.

"No chances. We'll go this afternoon and pick Peter up later for Wanda's party." She whispered, barely audible as she spoke mostly in the mug held to her lips.

With enhanced beings in the apartment, you could never be too careful; even with the hearing aids Peter still had freakish hearing. Clint nodded, albeit hesitantly- Natahsa could see the reluctance in the crease of his forehead and the harsh look in his eyes when there was a loud commotion from further inside the apartment, like something breaking.

In seconds the duo was on their feet.

Natasha reached for a gun she had stowed away beneath the couch for emergencies as Clint accepted the knife that she retrieved from her ankle. They all but ran to Peter's bedroom to see the teen frantically clutching as his bed sheets, eyes wide and panic filled; there was a large, splintered crack running through his bedside table and the lamp had been knocked to the floor, joined by his hearing aids and multiple comic books that were scattered around.

His short breaths drew Natasha's attention again, "I didn't mean- I'm sorry-"

"Hey." She passed the gun to Clint who started gathering the things from the floor and setting them to the side wordlessly. "It's okay Peter, you're okay. It's just a dream." Natasha soothed despite his lack of hearing as she was crouched in front of the teen. She softly brushed back his hair.

Light touches were something that was never associated with Natasha. Her touch alone was deemed lethal and deadly by anyone who dared talk about- not something that many wanted to be on the receiving end of. But when the assassin's touch was directed at Peter it was nothing but gentle and apprehensive, like she was afraid of corrupting him or damaging him further.

Instinctively, Peter relaxed beneath her ministrations. Even when her hand shifted to cradle the back his neck, he melted into her touch like it was second nature, despite knowing the lives they'd taken.

From where Clint hovered behind them, his eyes zeroed in on the rhythmic tapping of Nat's fingers- morse code- before he grabbed the hearing aids. He was pleased that even if the teenager didn't fully grasp sign language yet, (he'd been teaching Peter at the weekends), that there was still a way for them to communicate when he couldn't hear their voices.

After a few minutes Natasha pulled back. Clint handed over the devices to Peter's still trembling hands before he retreated to the doorway.

"Better?" Nat queried. Her eyes were full of genuine concern.

"Better." Peter nodded as if assuring himself. Then his eyes trailed to the bedside table. He blanched at the crack running through the wood.

"You probably just hit it, kid. No big deal." Clint said, making Peter's head snap back up so quick he could have gotten whiplash. He blinked before shaking his head a little.

"I liked that table." He said after a moment, joined by a shrug.

"You're going to make me go grey." Natasha huffed, ruffling his hair.

Peter's phone pinged and the agents smirked in unison at the sound- it was scary from Peter's point of view, and he rolled his eyes at their reaction. "Tell lover boy you've got homework." Nat called as she left the room like she had never been there in the first place.

Snickering, Peter threw a pillow after Clint as he ducked out of the room, leaving the door wide open behind him on purpose; it only made the man laugh harder when Peter complained.

Harls: what should we do this weekend?

Peter: eat tacos

Harls: all you ever want is tacos- it's an unhealthy obsession

Harls: and I was thinking something more romantic

Peter: tacos in the rain

Peter: if you're not thinking about tacos then what do you do all day?

Harls: remind myself there's no robots in prison so I don't kill you 😊

Peter: I love our love, it's poetic

Harls: I do try

Unconsciously, Peter's breathing eased as he smiled down at his phone before sparing a glance at the bedside table- he frowned slightly at the piece of broken furniture and his hands clenched unconsciously but his sides. Peter knew it wasn't because he'd hit it.

"Get your ass in here if you want to eat today!" Nat ordered through the apartment.

It took a few tries to push away his thoughts and Peter only succeeded once he'd made it to the kitchen to see Clint being held in a chokehold in the middle of the kitchen as if it was a normal occurrence. He arched an eyebrow at Natasha who wasn't even breaking a sweat before releasing him; the archer promptly sprawled across the floor in defeat.

"He took my lucky charms." Natasha shrugged, stepping over his body- Clint didn't even flinch. "I draw the line at my lucky charms." 

A/N

This is sort of like a filler chapter? But it's setting up what's going to happen in the next few chapters, so stay tuned!

When I was writing Clint and Nat, I really liked that they didn't see it from the same perspective and that she was surprised to see him on her couch. Idk, it just warms my heart cos they can argue all they want but they still come back to each other. 

Anywho! Let me know any spelling mistakes! xoxo.