THE RAIN HAD POUNDED DOWN on Peter in small, piercingly cold droplets as he speed-walked to the apartment, tapping into his mutation to get him there faster.
Warmth and relief seeped into his bones when he arrived and scuffed his shoes on the door mat while pushing off his hood. He shook off the stray raindrops that had managed to cling to his curls as his hip knocked the door closed behind him. When he turned around to face the apartment, he grimaced at the splatter of rain from his hair on the furniture and even the wall paper.
"Shit." he cursed under his breath, eyes zeroing in on the droplets that had landed on some important looking file that was spread across the coffee table.
His eyes darted around the room before he grabbed the closest thing to him- an old shirt of Clint's- and he darted forward to begin dabbing at the documents. He was cringing at his useless attempt at drying the piece of paper in his hand when he noticed the familiar last name in capital letters.
'PARKER'
Peter's brain short-circuited and his eyes shot up to look around the apartment; anxiety swirled in the pit of his stomach as the cold to his skin suddenly didn't matter anymore. He dropped the t-shirt on the coffee table, no longer caring for it as he slumped into the couch, his legs feeling weak and wobbly even once he was sat down.
His eyes roamed every inch of the papers laid out before him with a sinking heart.
Shield had never interested him much before, even with his entire family working with the organization, so he didn't know why they were so interested him. Peter thought him and Nick Fury had an understanding of sorts, an unlikely friendship; now he felt betrayed that they'd gone behind his back and researched him. That they hadn't told him.
Breathing became a difficult task as the oxygen got caught in his lungs. Peter struggled to shake away the abrupt feeling of anger and frustration that surged in him, rising in his chest.
"Peter?"
That voice. The only voice that had been able to reach him and bring him back from the brink of insanity after everything Hydra had done to him. He recognised that voice as easily as his own; the familiar lilt and tone that always carried waves of comfort. But now? It tore straight through him.
The surprised inflection within the single word- his name- sucked the little air from his lungs.
Peter's body stiffened and he felt as though he was back outside in the pouring rain with the cold that oozed in his chest- he couldn't find it in himself to look up from the papers sitting tauntingly in front of him. "Peter." Came the voice again.
He felt the urge to scream. To lash out. To cry.
Instead, he licked his lips shakily and balled his hands into fists. "Were you going to tell me?"
The question hung in the tense air between them. Natasha stared Peter down whilst guilt and acceptance gnawed away at her insides like starved animals. The sight of him reluctant to look at her almost broke her resolve and for once in her life, Natasha felt unprepared in how to approach the situation with two conflicting paths fighting not in her head, but in her heart. The indecision only made her thoughts spiral as she scrambled for a semblance of control.
"Eventually. We were running background-"
"We?" Peter echoed the word bitterly. His fingers trembled as he forced himself to follow Wanda's breathing techniques from the roof. They barely helped control his raging emotions.
All he could think of was the address his eyes seemed locked on- Queens. It wasn't that far from the apartment, and the realisation made Peter's stomach lurch. How many times had he seen his aunt and not realised? Or driven past her apartment and not known his last living relative was inside? Part of him wanted to race out of the room and find her- finally meet her- but the other part of him wanted to run to his room and hide from the world until it all went away.
"Clint. And me." Natasha confirmed, her voice hard like steel.
"Who else knew?" The words were void of much feeling, said out of instinct to gather as much information as possible than interest.
"Fury and Agent Hill."
Another agonizing silence descended where Natasha felt the instinct to reach out for the teenager, but she forced it away, instead she chose to slip off her jacket wordlessly. She draped it over the armchair before moving to the opposite end of the room, keeping a safe distance between them and to stamp down on her temptation to hold him. It felt like miles.
"So, what was the plan? Ship me off to Queens?"
The harshness of the question made Natasha blink and pause in her steady breathing before she gathered herself, hiding the surprise the outburst had caused. She folded her arms in front of her chest resolutely; he couldn't stay with her, he needed to go.
"It would be the safest option-"
"Safe?" Peter ground out through gritted teeth, his head finally jolting up to reveal red-rimmed eyes that were burning from holding back waves of tears as he stood to his feet. Natasha swallowed thickly at the betrayed look he was shooting in her direction; not even in her worst nightmares had she ever imagined that look directed at her. It made her skin crawl and her fingers twitch before she dug them into her skin. "Was I just another assignment? All these months I was just some tiresome mission and now that you've got an alternative you can't wait to pass me on to someone else- I guess pretending to love me was too much of a fucking task for the Black Widow-"
"I am not your mother."
Her voice was cool and hard and cut straight through to Peter's core. For a beat he stared at her and it was like they were seeing each other for the first time, like they were back in that warehouse all over again- he looked shattered, broken beyond repair. Then his face closed off, like steel doors slamming to the ground. The damage had been done and Natasha knew exactly which buttons to press to keep them there; the words tumbled from her mouth before she could catch them.
"I am not your family. And you are not my kid."
Suddenly, glass cascaded around them, as if every pane had been blown inwards.
Natasha curled in on herself as the shards rained down around the room. Her mind raced with potential enemies and the cause of the explosion when she dropped to the ground and grabbed a hidden gun from beneath the television stand. She jumped back to her feet, the weapon raised defensively as her eyes searched for attacks and calculated the potential damage.
To her surprise, there was nothing to see but the usual brick wall of the apartment building next door.
Slowly, she turned back to Peter; he was still standing beside the couch, though he now had a healing cut on the side of his face that was already beginning to stitch itself back together. He looked pale and drained of any energy- his powers were still thrumming and mingling with his adrenaline.
Natasha watched him stumble and right himself as she took an instinctive step forward. Regret filled where the words had weighed down in her chest- the words she knew would send him running.
The blue hue faded from his hands as he stretched out his fingers from where they had curled into tight fists by his side. Natasha's eyes flickered back to his face to find it tear stained and his eyes welling with more; the absence of the power and the hole her words had torn into him left Peter hollow and empty as he stared at the gun still gripped in her hands.
He unclenched his jaw when he dared to meet her gaze.
Fear. It was small but there in the woman's eyes. It could have been fear of the unknown or fear of him- Peter wasn't sure and his mind ached at even the idea of pondering it.
"Peter?" She asked, eyes cautious and flitting from his face to his hands periodically.
Peter was hit with the realisation that maybe he didn't have to think about what she was scared of as her grip shifted on the gun; a nervous tic. A gut-wrenching sob rose in his throat before he steeled himself and swallowed the urge down, the only hint of it was the grimace that morphed his features for a split second before he webbed the assassin's feet to the ground, making the woman take in a sharp breath as she struggled to free herself.
"Peter!" She called, "Don't do this- Peter!"
He'd already ducked out of the apartment, exhaustion sweeping through him but he forced himself to keep going, to disappear among the crowds of New York in the pouring rain. His destination was anywhere, as long as it was far from the family that he thought he had.
A/N
Well. I'm sorry?
I really love this chapter and their reactions- it took me a while to write out Natasha's response. In my first draft it was all very shouty but I like her keeping her composure even though she's struggling on the inside.
Also Peter's outburst hurts my heart because he just wants a family. :(
Anywho! Let me know of any spelling mistakes! xoxo.