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

{47} I always keep a spare. old habits die hard

WHEN PETER'S HAND FELT THE FAMILIAR calloused skin that grasped him, he paused.

Fear darted through Peter's eyes as they widened at the sight of Clint in front him. Disbelief contorted the teen's features as he watched Clint warily, like he would strike out at any moment. He wanted to reach out, to attach himself to the man who had radiated comfort but he some part of him didn't dare.

Could this be a trick by Hydra? A test? A hallucination?

Before he could make a decision, Clint cautiously reached forwards so that his hands could drift over the metal digging into the teen's neck, searching for the release clasp. The small glimpse at the scars beneath the metal dug its nails into Clint's heart and tugged painfully until he was having to consciously steel himself. He breathed had to force back the sudden wave of anger.

Soft whimpers escaped Peter's lips, accompanied by mumbled and breathy pleas.

"It's okay Pete. I've got you, I'm here. It's going to be okay." Clint whispered comfortingly; he finally found the switch. He was quick to unclasp the collar and throw the contraption across the room, satisfied with the way it hit the floor and crumpled to the ground, sparking.

The sudden freedom made Peter's body freeze and his eyes snap back up to Clint who was transfixed by the gruesome aftermath left behind on the boy's neck.

It was red raw, dried flecks of blood creating a clear outline of wear the collar had sat on and off for the past two months. Dark, black, and blue bruises were blossoming across Peter's pale skin and Clint noticed the faint, barely healed myriad of scarring hidden amongst the scatter of colour. He frowned darkly at them before his attention was drawn back to Peter's mixed expression of pain and relief.

He slumped forwards, feeling as though he could breathe again.

"You're okay now Pete." Clint promised, hand inching out and taking the teens with a distinct lack of resistance now, as if all the fight he had previously possessed had drained away. "I've got you. No one's touching you again I swear." Peter's eyes flickered back to Clint's for a moment before dropping down to his mouth, studying the way his lips moved and formed letters that would form sentences; the quiet was deafening now that he wanted to hear again.

Barney frowned as his eyes settled on Peter while Clint fawned over him, oblivious.

His fingers were lightly tracing the burn scar running down Peter's neck, eyes alight with fury as he raised the teen's chin higher to get a better look at the rest of the scar that ran beneath the ratty excuse for clothing he was wearing. Peter reluctantly let himself be shifted, trusting Clint to not hurt him.

"Clint." Barney grunted out. "He..." His face pinched uncomfortably, unsure of how to break the news to his brother. "Peter has lost his hearing."

Clint's head moved so quick that Barney faintly worried he had gotten whiplash. For a moment, he merely studied Barney's expression before his attention shifted back to Peter who had grasped both of his wrists instinctively, as if to anchor himself to the archer and to stop him from moving too far away- Clint was grateful to feel Peter's strength slowing returning.

"Peter? Can you hear me?" He questioned, heart hammering harder in his chest when Peter's face scrunched up in confusion before it bled into frustration. "Shit..." He breathed out, struggling for a response before he instinctively turned around, eyes seeking out his brother.

"Barney-" he stopped short, noticing the old set of hearing aids held out to him.

"I always keep a spare. Old habits die hard." Barney muttered.

Gratefully, Clint accepted the items before he faced Peter again and gently fitted them to his ears; they were slightly too big but they'd serve their purpose for now. Peter just sat wide eyed and his heart hammering away in his chest as he forced himself to allow Clint so close when all he wanted to do was flinch at the contact. He had forgotten not everyone wanted to hurt him.

Anxiously, Clint turned them on and adjusted the volume before he finally dared to say, "Peter?"

A new round of tears clouded Peter's vision when Clint's voice came to him, clear and only slightly staticky after so long in a world made of pure silence. "C-Clint." He croaked out, practically throwing himself into the man's arms. His fingers scrabbled to tangle themselves into the fabric of his uniform because he wasn't Hydra. He'd found him and freed him and given him back his hearing-

"Don't let me go, please, please, please don't let me go."

The plea was punctuated by every heaving breath Peter managed to drag into his lungs whilst Clint held him tight against his body, eyes squeezed shut as he whispered, "I swear it kid." and ignored the closing in his throat because it had been two months without Peter Parker and there was no way he was going to let the teenager out his sight for the next ten years and then some.

"I want to go home." Peter whispered, sounding younger than he ever had before.

"We will." Clint breathed. "We'll get Nat, and the others, and we'll go home."

After a few more minutes of simply holding the teenager, Clint reluctantly pried Peter off of him and helped the kid to his feet. He threw the boy's arm over his shoulders because despite the loss of weight, the teen could hardly hold himself up- Clint knew that Natasha would be stuffing him full of food the second they reached the tower again.

"We've got the kid." Barney announced into the comm set, following behind them.

Peter leaned heavily into Clint's side as he hobbled across the glass and out into the corridor, a surreal feeling building in his chest the second he stepped out of the cell of his own free will. It was accompanied by a sick satisfaction at the sight of Hydra agents limp on the ground.

"I'm almost there." Natasha's voice rang through the earpiece. "Two minutes."

For a moment, Peter allowed himself to relax. To finally believe that his family had come for him, and he could go home- that he was free- when he heard a gun cock.

It was as though ice-cold water had been poured over him when his head turned in the direction of the new sound, the world spinning slightly from the jerked movement. Barney turned as well, unsheathing his own weapon while Clint impulsively curled his arm tighter around Peter's slim form, withdrawing his own gun with a hard look on his face.

Helen stood at the end of the corridor, pant suit torn and blood on her temple. Peter shivered.

A/N

My poor baby Peter :( That's all I gotta say.

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