THE STEADY STREAM OF FIGHTING GOING ON BELOW was nothing more than boring background noise to Peter.
Not even the familiar dins of Cap's shield clashing against unyielding bullets or Tony's repulsor blasts against the concrete walls in an attempt to find the control panel were enough to break through Peter's one-track mind. They simply didn't register in his brain- almost like they were muffled or just out of reach for his mind to process. Instead, his hearing was fixated on the sound of Cain loading his gun and the hardly audible click of the safety being turned off- it echoed in Peter's head as he watched the action intently, as if he couldn't fully understand it.
Then, Clint shifted on the floor and turned to look at Peter with a bloodied face and a myriad of bruises colouring his skin; he offered a grimace more than a reassuring smile at the teen.
"Don't worry about me kid."
He forced out the words and ignored the shooting pain from his ribs with every breath he took. At the statement, Peter's spider sense flared angrily, sending all the hairs on his body standing on end in unison. Fear built in his chest as he watched Cain press the barrel of the gun to the back of Clint's head; but he didn't know why. "It's not your fault kid." He added, breathless.
"He doesn't care." Snarled Cain, sick of the man's sentimentality.
A single, lone gunshot punctuated the air.
Peter felt himself run cold at the sound, like the blood in his veins had frozen in their tracks while he continued to stare at Clint whose chest rose and fell heavily. The man stared back, eyes wide and confused at what was happening. Peter blinked and the world felt as though it had suddenly come back into focus- he finally noticed the shimmering blue shield encasing Clint.
He looked down at his hands and inexplicably relaxed at the magic running over his fingers.
"Get, away from him." Peter ground out, shooting a dark look at Cain as the gun dropped to his side out of sheer shock. There was a deep ache in Peter's head as he clutched at his curls as if trying to rip out the pain- it felt as though something was trying to dig into his thoughts, his instincts, but his powers fought back viciously to protect Peter. They tore down any last remnants of the mind control into pieces, leaving the world crystal clear in its wake.
"How did you do that?"
Cain was seething with anger as he aimed the gun now at Peter, suddenly recovering from his initial surprise. His nostrils flared and he stared the teenager down.
Peter merely glanced at him as he spat, "Hydra." and a hysterical breath escaped his lips.
As he composed himself, his eyes dropped to Clint who seemed stunned at still being alive.
Noticing his distraction, Cain shifted his grip on the gun- intent on shooting Peter when the hairs on his arms stood on end in warning. He ducked past the bullet easily and ran at Cain before he had a chance to catch his breath. They both fell over the edge of the high walkaway; out of instinct, Peter's arm shot out and a web caught a piece of metal and they jolted to an abrupt stop.
Frantically, Cain gripped onto Peter as his gun fell to the floor and clattered below them.
"Peter!" Screamed someone, but he didn't look down. He continued to look up at Clint who was suddenly leaning his body over the edge, hand outstretched with a pained look on his face.
"Pete! Just take my hand, come on!" He begged.
Seeing Peter hanging there by his strength alone and far away from the ground made Clint want to scream till he had no voice left to use. He didn't think he'd felt so much fear crawling down his spine than when he watched Peter's grip shift occasionally. But it was the acceptance in his eyes that hurt the most, it was clear as day like he knew what he had to do- Clint didn't know what that was.
Didn't dare to even think it.
Peter could feel tears prick his eyes when he shook his head stubbornly, taking in a breath.
He took a moment just to look at the man who had done nothing except love him when he should have been unlovable. Guilt clawed at his stomach as he stared at the bruises he'd left behind, at all the pain that he had caused Clint because he hadn't been strong enough to fight back. "It's okay- it's okay." Peter was sure he had never heard his voice break so harshly but he pressed on. Clint continued to reach out pleadingly above him.
"I'm just sorry." Peter offered a watery smile before tearing his gaze away.
Clint felt his heart shatter as he noticed Peter's knuckles were white and shaking from his tight grip- his chest rose and fell sporadically while he prayed for Peter to just take his hand.
"I'm so sorry." Peter heaved out, sparing the archer one final look.
Clint jolted forwards, "Peter no-"
He let go. And Clint felt like he'd fallen too with the way his stomach swooped.
Air rushed past Peter as he felt the webbing slip from his fingers and he fought the instinctual urge to shoot out another to slow or stop his descent. He focussed on the roaring from his spider sense as it screamed relentlessly in his ears, drowning out anything else- the weight of Cain dragging his body down disappeared but Peter didn't blink at the loss, just continued to stare upwards, unaware of the ground hurtling towards him. Natasha watched in horror.
She'd failed to catch him again.
A/N
Ok. I know what it looks like- Vormir. Did I write this scene with Endgame in mind? No. But subconsciously I must have wanted to cause pain, so, here ya go. Poor Clint though.
And Natasha watching Peter fall? Oof.
Anywho! Let me know of any spelling mistakes! xoxo.