It's a Spider Thing. {Peter Parker and Natasha Romanoff}

{14} last i checked you couldn't pin me

"I WAS NOT EXPECTING THIS." Peter breathed.

A farmhouse loomed in front of them; Peter thought it looked picturesque. Quaint. Like a family home that would have had kids of all ages running around the fence- nothing but happiness and smiles. A sanctuary from the big wide world.

The feeling of longing ran through his chest before he firmly pushed it away.

"What were you expecting?" Clint teased, watching Peter's face fall for a moment, allowing a rare and brief second of emotion to flicker through until it was gone again. The teen sighed, tilting his head as he examined the building with a scrutinizing gaze one final time.

"Crappy apartment with mould on the walls."

"Mould?" Clint spluttered while Peter casually slipped from the car, dragging a rucksack with him. He shrugged with one shoulder as he slung the bag over the other.

"Just, seemed like you." He snarked, a smirk tugging at his lips.

Clint let out an unattractive snort." "You know if Nat wasn't so fond of you, I swear-"

"Last I checked you couldn't pin me." Peter grinned cockily when Clint's face pinched at the memory of being kicked in the one place no man should ever be kicked.

Just as the archer went to retort, the door to the farmhouse swung open.

A man, who Peter automatically assumed to be Barney Barton, stood on the porch in casual clothing with a dog by his side who was wagging its tail excitedly. There was a gun in his hand that rested comfortably against his palm and Peter easily deduced he handled them often, especially when he watched him cock it with practised ease. He was staring at Clint and himself intently.

The spider sense flared up- something felt familiar about the man. And not in a good way.

Instinctively, Peter took a step back. His entire body was stiff and coiling to attack on a second's notice while his gaze was trained on the man's face, but his hearing was tuned into the weapon, waiting for a shift in pressure that didn't come.

"You bastard." Barney grinned as Clint jogged towards him.

The dog dashed forwards too whereas Peter remained stationary, firmly planted by the car and refusing to tear away his scrutinizing gaze from the oldest Barton. "Asshole." Clint said, a hint of fondness slipping into his voice as they gave the other a one-armed hug.

He patted Lucky on the head affectionately before turning around, "This is Peter." He introduced, gesturing to the teen. He frowned slightly.

Any signs of the easy conversation and humour they had shared in the car had disappeared, his open and content body language replaced by harsh lines and tense shoulders. Peter's grip on his rucksack was tight and unyielding, putting Clint on full alert. The kid was eerily still, and the archer would be reluctant to admit that it made his stomach churn a little- usually some part of him was moving. Whether it was his eyes or his foot, but his attention seemed solely focussed on... Barney? Clint shifted and wandered over, resting a heavy hand on Peter's shoulder. He squeezed it gently to attract his attention, feeling the clenched muscles beneath. "You okay kid?"

"Yeah." Peter said, calm as anything but his physicality betrayed him.

Cautiously, Barney walked forwards with his hands held up as if in surrender- the gun now tucked into the back of his belt. "The gun is just a precaution." He told Peter who didn't respond. "Didn't mean to scare him." Barney added to Clint, as though Peter couldn't hear him. The archer severely doubted Peter had been scared-

"I'm not scared." He stated coolly, forcing himself to relax his stance- get a grip.

The man was Clint's brother- he could be trusted. Or at the very least, Peter could trust Clint's judgement despite his own sense maintaining a low, constant warning in the base of his skull.

"That's my kid." Clint smiled tensely, resting his arm on Peter's shoulders before guiding him towards the farmhouse. Barney fell into step on his right as the dog ran ahead. He glanced curiously at the teen before shaking off the awkward introduction.

"Well, who's ready to dupe Stark?" He announced.

"Always." Clint joked as Peter faked a smile.

-

Clint didn't care for many people's opinions. He trusted his own judgement and was hardly convinced of anything unless it came from Natasha, the avengers or Nick himself.

So, he would be reluctant to confess that noticing Peter's shift in mood to be more alert and ready for a throw down whenever Barney was within three feet of him was making him antsy. It wasn't like he cared for the teenager- nope, not at all, not in the slightest. But the way he was watching Barney constantly out the corner of his eye wasn't sitting well in his chest.

After one hell of a stressful dinner of Peter stabbing at the chicken on his plate and Clint pretending everything was normal while chatting with Barney- he cornered the spiderkid when he was playing fetch with Lucky out on the porch.

"Don't like my brother then?" He asked casually.

Peter hesitated at the sudden question before shrugging. He stared out at the small wood area surrounding the property. "Silent treatment? Aren't we a little old for that?" Clint groaned.

"I've seen 'Tasha when she does the silent treatment on you, and you practically cry-"

"Alright!" Clint hushed, glancing dramatically around. Peter smiled to himself before it slipped away again. "Point made." He mumbled, before adding, "But seriously. Barney. What's the issue?"

Lucky bounded towards them, stick in his mouth.

Silence settled, again. It made Clint cringe as he watched Peter pick up the stick and wordlessly throw it back into the grass while Lucky scampered after it, oblivious of the tense atmosphere.

"He-" Peter took in a sharp breath, features carefully blank, "He reminds me of someone." He explained, hands balled by his sides before he dug them into his pockets, "Something he did was familiar and not in a good way." He snuck a look at Clint who was deep in thought at the admission.

"It won't be the same, guy. Right?" Peter questioned, waiting for his reaction.

Peter hated that he needed reassurance. But the mere idea of Barney being who he thought he was made him feel suddenly sick to his stomach. It took Clint longer than he would have liked to realise that Peter, of all people, was looking to him for comfort. For security. Anything. He'd categorised the kid as someone who never needed reassurance of any kind; confident, secure. Yet he looked at Clint with an intense and painfully tired expression that was cracking to reveal the kid underneath.

"It won't be Barney. I promise kid."

"Ok." Peter nodded once. His stance relaxed a little. "I believe you. I'll stop-"

"Plotting his death?" Suggested Clint- Peter laughed sheepishly and the mood lightened.

"Yeah. That." He mumbled, gaze dropping to the floor as his ears reddened. 

A/N

Barney Barton as promised my dudes.

Also, I love Peter and Clint being sarcasm buddies with each other and both of them also being lowkey very protective over the other- ya know?

Anywho, let me know of any spelling mistakes! xoxo.