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

{25} like a parasite

THE CAR DRIVE WAS QUIET, the only occupants within the small vehicle being Natasha and Clint. They had had to practically restrain half of the team before being allowed to leave.

They needed to stay covert and having 'Earth's Mightiest Heroes' in the back seats wasn't helpful.

Usually, the drive out to the farmhouse passed by quickly enough but now it suddenly felt as though time was passing in slow motion. Natasha let out a small breath. Her body was leaned back against the passenger seat, her knees pressed close up to her chest as her head turned slightly so that she could watch the world blur together out of the window.

"You know when I first met him, I didn't think he was going to mean much to me. I've never been more wrong." Her voice was strangely soft in the quiet of the car.

Clint, who had been diligently driving over the speed limit, glanced over at her for a second before his eyes darted back to the road. "He grows on you. Like a parasite." The assassin huffed out a laugh, though it sounded strained to her own ears as she thumped Clint's shoulder, shaking her head lightly.

"You like him, Barton."

"I never said that." Clint denied, shooting the woman an outraged look.

"You're a big old softie." Nat said simply. Her words left no room for negotiation, though Clint attempted it anyway. It was useless to argue against the woman. "Always have been."

"I am not." He refused and rebuffed the idea.

Nat snorted. "Do not make me start a list just to prove you wrong."

"I am not!" Clint persisted, huffing dramatically. Natasha flicked his temple.

"Fine then." She hissed playfully. "There's been Peter. Wanda. Me."

The archer shrugged with a forced casualness and refused to look at Natasha from where she stared at him with a growing, teasing grin plastered across her face in a rare show of true emotion.

"You care, a lot. I never understood it till..."

She trailed off, the smile fading away as her eyes dropped back to her hands. The playful atmosphere dissipated as quick as it had started. "Till Peter." Clint finished.

Natasha didn't look back up from her hands. She swallowed thickly.

"The kid isn't that bad." He added after a beat of silence, making Nat's lip quirk upwards at the exaggerated comment. "Annoying yeah. But not that bad."

"Knew you liked him. Admitting it isn't a bad thing." She sang, though it lacked true humour.

"He's still annoying." Clint grumbled.

Restless, Natasha extended her hand to Clint expectantly. The anxiety in her chest loosened when he took the offered hand without a glance; she could feel his calloused skin on hers as he squeezed gently. "What's on your mind?" His voice was barely above a whisper.

Natasha sighed. "I just want him home."

-

Ever since the loss of his hearing, Peter couldn't decide if he hated the silence or not.

It had been a blissful reprieve when he was being tortured by Hydra; one of the only saving graces of having his hearing taken from him was that he no longer had to listen to their voices or their footsteps. But now? It served as a constant reminder of the sense that he had lost. His vulnerability. It hadn't bothered him as much when living with Natasha- he knew she'd have his back and alert him to the things he couldn't hear through any means, which was more often than not morse code since he found it easier to learn than sign language, though he wasn't too bad at it.

His chest tightened uncomfortably when he thought about the assassin.

"Little late to be wandering about, isn't it?" Wanda's voice shattered the eerie silence.

On instinct, he turned to find the voice and finally noticed Wanda settled on the couch, holding a small photo in her hands as if it was the most precious thing in the world- Peter could see the gap it had left on the mantel piece before he dropped down beside her, grateful for the distraction. She looked up and offered him part of her blanket and neither of them commented on her unshed tears as they sat shoulder to shoulder, the blanket pooled around their laps.

"Why are you awake?" He asked. Wanda shrugged, dropping her head on his shoulder comfortably.

"I have this horrible feeling everything is about to go wrong." She whispered.

Peter hummed quietly. He had that feeling perpetually, ever since Hydra had invaded the tower and tore down the life he had managed to build. Gritting his teeth, Peter shook his head to rid himself of his thoughts and swallowed back the bitter taste in his mouth as he forced the depressing topic of foreboding feelings away.

"What did you think of my power?" He asked. Wanda perked up and turned to face him.

"I think yours are defensive. Protection based. They're different from my own."

"How so?" There was a genuine want to understand lacing his words, curiosity igniting in his chest.

Peter understood science and mathematics with ease, but the inner workings of his powers had evaded his rational thinking on the late nights that he had allowed his mind to wonder about what they were in the safety of the dark in his room.

He was eager to learn whatever he could.

"I believe they are a reflection of who we are." Wanda explained as she shifted so that she could face him fully as she began to explain. "Mine cause chaos more often than not. I can creep inside people's minds and drag out their darkest thoughts, make them live their worst fears. I was born in a country of madness, of constant war and fighting. Mine are more prone to damage."

Peter shook his head slightly. "You brought my best memories to the front."

In the warm lighting, Wanda paled at his comment and looked away from him- as if she no longer dared to look him in the eye. "It's easier to grab a hold of the bad, than it is the good. I'm sorry about doing that to you without permission-"

"You had no other choice." Peter said sternly, cutting her off.

"Still." Wanda sighed. "I'm sorry."

Knowing the argument was a losing battle, Peter waited for Wanda to finally look at him again before he offered a warm smile. "What about my powers then?" He queried, wanting to steer the conversation to something less guilt inducing. "What do they reflect?"

"Your need for protection." Wanda said simply, relaxing once again.

"You were raised in a place where you were an experiment." Peter winced and she gave him an apologetic look for her blunt explanation before she continued. "I believe your powers reflect a primal need to protect yourself. In time, I think you could project your powers so they shield others too."

"You think?" Peter felt eager to expand his powers, despite the initial terror. If he could focus, he could protect the ones he cared about. Natasha wouldn't look at him like-

Glass sprayed inwards and something thumped against the floor.

Peter jolted upwards, his sense screaming. His eyes were alert and searching for the threat when they landed on the grenade that had rolled to a stop a few feet away. Acting on impulse, he grabbed Wanda and threw them both over the couch; he felt the heat travel up his back before they crash landed on the floor as the mantel was blown to pieces.

He manoeuvred them so his body dropped over Wanda's when they hit the ground- she curled into a tight ball beneath him when the gunfire began over their heads. 

A/N

Clint and Natasha having a heart to heart will always make my feel warm and fuzzy, I just love them so much.

Anywho! Let me know of any spelling mistakes! xoxo.