3.3

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a/n : this chapter is legit my favorite i do not take criticism





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IT WAS EARLY WHEN SPENCER ARRIVED AT THE FARM.


The sun was barely out, in fact. To get there, there was a private jet and then a rental car, and then Clint's actual car.

"It's to avoid a trail," he explained at about 3 AM, and Spencer nodded, but she didn't really get it. Or care, at all. All she had to do was sit in the jet/car/car number two, and just try to sleep - not that she could. Wanda was sitting in the back with her, and Pietro was in the front with Clint. And mostly, it was silent. Wanda was fast asleep in the window seat, but Pietro and Clint spoke occasionally in murmured conversation.

A few times, Spencer caught Pietro's eyes glancing at her through the back mirror.

The sky was pink when the car turned into a long, dusty road, and Spencer spent a few minutes admiring the orange and purple streaks across the sky before the car rumbled to a stop.

She turned to Clint and Pietro.

"Welcome to the Barton Inn," Clint jokes, meeting Spencer's eyes through the rearview mirror. His attention quickly switched to Wanda at her side.

Spencer unclicked her seat belt, grabbing her hastily packed backpack and slinging it on her shoulder as she slipped out of the car. Clint had opened Wanda's door and was trying to coax her away.

When Spencer turned to get a better look at the house, Pietro was at her side, staring ahead as well.

"It's pretty," Spencer told him. And it was true - Clint's house was really pretty. The green boarding and roof, the porch - it was the perfect, softest farmhouse.

Pietro nodded, and the movement caused Spencer to turn to him. He looked... tired. Sure, that was everyone in the car, to be fair, but it was a little different.

"Are you alright?" Spencer asked him, quietly, and Pietro pulled his eyes away from the house.

"Yes," he said, as if it was obvious, his eyes falling back down to Spencer. "Give me that," he said, quietly, and Spencer looked at him, confused until he rolled his eyes and slipped her backpack off her shoulders. "You look like you will collapse," he told her, and Spencer let out a tired scoff that resembled more of a whine.

"Clint!" a voice called out, and their heads turned over to the front door that was swinging open, the voice breaking the silence, full chill of the morning. The man just behind them jogged ahead of the twins and Spencer, wrapping his arms around the woman and giving her a little twirl.

𝙨𝙞𝙡𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜  ➪ 𝘱𝘪𝘦𝘵𝘳𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘹𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘧𝘧Where stories live. Discover now