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

{33} fancy seeing you here

SOME TIME HAD PASSED, and Peter was vaguely aware of that fact.

Similar to the way that he was only half aware of how his unconscious had made mental notes on the cell he had been unceremoniously dumped in upon arrival.

It was distinctly different from the one that Helen had holed him up in, in-between the experiments and torture. There was no glass window to watch him from, only simple metal bars as their replacement; an empty cell was across from Peter's with the same monotonous layout- bed in the far corner and a single camera mounted high on the wall. However, the main difference between his previous captivity and the one he was living through now, was the lack of handcuffs and collar.

As if the thought came from a distance- hazy and barely heard- Peter's brain supplied an answer to the question he hadn't verbally asked. Power dampening walls.

Despite the bleak situation that had had him cowering before, Peter felt nothing bar an eerie calm and a wave of acceptance settled deep in his bones while he sat, hunched and cross legged in the middle of the room. His thoughts wandered on their own accord as if trying to rouse his brain from the thick fog it had disappeared into. Logically, Peter knew he should have felt the familiar pang of fear that the Hydra symbol invoked in him by now- and he knew, dimly, that it was dangerous that it wasn't there.

But it was as if his brain had shut down that part of himself- the part that felt with every fibre of his being- in an attempt to protect itself from the oncoming agony.

Regret pooled in Peter's stomach as his mind drifted, distracting itself from the room around him, from the bleakness his reality held- with thoughts of May Parker. He'd barely known the woman and the idea of not having the chance to get to know her, the last living link to the life he'd had before Hydra, saddened him. Genuine grief clawed at his throat, making his eyes sting before the thought was abruptly discarded, his brain deciding it was a lost cause.

Instead, his thoughts switched to the team- to the avengers- and if they'd found Harley and Wanda by now. His chest tightened uncomfortably, and he blinked unseeingly at the bars.

After everything that had happened in his life, Peter naively let himself believe that he and Harley would somehow always find their way back to one another. But it felt hauntingly final this time, that he would never see his boyfriend again. And if he did, Peter knew in his bones that he'd made an ugly choice. A choice that had cut deep, jagged lines into Peter's heart, but a choice all the same to walk away. To let Harley, go. He'd said the words he'd never thought he'd get the chance to say and left after promising to never leave- that they'd do it all together.

Peter's lips were barely parted as a trembling breath escaped and he blinked back the sudden round of tears at the idea of never seeing Harley again. He ground his teeth together when he felt a lone, traitorous tear spill onto his cheek. It ran down his face, leaving an almost invisible trail behind before it dropped onto the concrete floor as he studiously avoided giving the subject another thought; to reign in his slipping control over the blanket of nothingness that he'd wrapped himself inside of in preparation.

His mind then conjured up Natasha. As if trying to break down the walls Peter had risen in a shoddy attempt to keep out the hurt that was sure to be inflicted.

Memories flitted through his mind of them dancing in the living room- she'd let him lead her in the small space, the epitome of grace and control joined by the small upturn of her lips while Peter moved around her, his mind finally settled. He remembered crowding around the computer screen for a teacher-parent conference and seeing the proud glint in her eyes when she had nudged his shoulder with her own- and the absurd training times when sleep was unattainable for the both of them and they found a strange solace in working side by side, honing their skills.

Peter remembered the way her arms felt, circling around him protectively like his own personal shield against the world, holding him impossibly tight when it felt like he was falling to pieces.

Her quiet words on the nights when every fibre of his being screamed at him to run and echoed through his mind. The way she had softly reminded him that he could leave, if he wanted, and that there would always be a room for him if ever came back. He wistfully reminisced on the memory of them curled on the worn couch, legs intertwined with matching mugs of hot chocolate clutched in their hands- lemon biscuits piled between them, balancing precariously. Their favourite.

The conversation was one he held close to his heart. It had happened just after Sokovia.

Natasha had looked at him in the dark, eyes serious and strangely longing in the light emitting from the lamp in the corner of the room. "We could leave, you know."

The statement had startled Peter, jolting him from his own thoughts at the time.

"What do you mean?" he'd frowned in confusion.

Natasha shrugged. "We could go anywhere in the world, as far as we needed to and just, live there."

"You'd be happy?" Peter questioned, pondering the idea. His eyes flickered to meet hers.

"As long as you were there." She'd smiled, as if visualising the idea in her head while she sipped from her mug. Warmth had blossomed in Peter's chest as she rested her chin on her knees and looked thoughtful. "We'd bring Clint of course- for entertainment purposes." she'd teased, a smirk tugging on her lips as Peter laughed. It had been breathy and genuine before they dissolved into a conversation about the dumb things Clint had done that week- from tripping over his own feet to being dragged, squawking, and shrieking out of the vents by Tony at the tower.

Peter hadn't tried running after that- or ever felt the need to. But they both kept a duffel bag packed under their beds in a silent promise of, one day.

A cell door being unlocked jarred Peter from his painful reverie. His head jolted and he looked up from his intense stare at the floor to- he froze, every muscle tensing at the sight before him. Even the air from his lungs seemed to have halted on its way out.

"Clint?" The name slipped, disbelieving and barely above a whisper.

For the first time in the few hours since Peter's arrival; the panic set in and the fear crept up his throat as he blinked at the archer. Clint was thrown in the cell, the door clanging shut behind him as the man turned around. His gaze fell on the teen across from him.

Peter was now pressing his body against the bars instead of being curled in the middle of the floor, heart thrumming as he narrowly held back his anger. They'd had an agreement.

"Hey Pete." Clint greeted, a bitter smile tugging on his lips. "Fancy seeing you here." 

A/N

The memory scene is one of my favourite bits of the sequel because it makes me feel warm and fuzzy, like I just really love Nat and Peter- they do have my heart I won't lie.

And Clint's snarky appearance is peak.

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