It's a Spider Family. {Sequel to 'It's a Spider Thing'.}

{34} checkmate asshole

THERE WAS A TENSE SILENCE that weighed heavily around them as Clint bit back the sarcastic comment, cringing at the way it had settled in the room.

Meticulously, his eyes took in every inch of the teenager who was pressed up against the bars, eyes alight with a growing, distant panic and a contorted expression of confusion. His attention latched onto Peter's arm, drawn there by the red skin that had only seemingly recently knitted itself back together. Ignorant of the injury, Peter continued to stare at the archer like he was a ghost.

Fleetingly, Clint wondered if Peter wished he was.

"No." Peter spat through gritted teeth; voice hardly audible.

His hands curled around the bars, knuckles turning a harsh white before he dropped his head against the cool metal. The curve of his shoulders was tense and sharp as his eyes closed and he dragged in a lungful of air and breathed it back out again. Hesitantly, Peter looked up through his eyelashes at Clint who was now sat on the floor, concern clear in the lines of his face.

"Are you hurt?" He questioned, holding Peter's gaze.

A choked, hysterical laugh tried to escape as the words rang in Peter's ears. He bit down hard on his lip and shook his head no- tears sprung to his eyes when he released a shaking breath.

Clint leaned forwards urgently. "Kid? What's wrong?"

They'll use the people you love against you, Peter's brain oh-so-helpfully provided as he loosened his grip on the bars and flexed his fingers before running them through his hair. He tugged on the strands at the nape of his neck- "You shouldn't be here." He hissed.

"Neither should you." Clint countered defensively.

"No- you don't get it." Peter retorted, a grim smile curling at his lips as a harsh sob escaped him, taking him by surprise with the way he clamped a hand firmly over his mouth. Clint thought he looked every bit of the scared kid he'd been when they first met- barely holding it together with a dangerous, manic air surrounding him everywhere he went.

Red rimmed eyes met the archer's and Clint fought to keep the eye contact.

"Fuck, Clint. We're screwed- so goddamn screwed and you don't even know it." he breathed out, hands starting to shake. Peter itched to fall back into the numbness that had first found him.

"We're going to be fine. It'll be okay-"

"I didn't tell you about half the shit they did to me." Peter cut him off, voice sharp like steel. His eyes narrowed and there was a desperate lilt to the teen's words. "They tear you apart and stitch you back together how they want. I..." he blinked, and his lips trembled, "I can't protect you from that. From them- I can't. I'm not, not strong enough and god, how do I explain that to 'Tasha? That I couldn't protect her best friend? That I let him-"

Clint felt sick, watching the kid fall apart in front of him. Watching him spiral.

It was as though a dam had opened and every thought and fear were spilling out of Peter at the grim realisation that Clint was here. That he was in a Hydra base with a man who had no issues with experimentation and god- Peter would rather die himself than let them get their hands on Clint and for him to go through the same things that haunted Peter at night.

Rationally, he knew the man was a trained agent.

He knew how to resist torture techniques and Peter severely doubted it would be the first time he'd been subjected to them. But there was a primal fear screaming in Peter's brain, growing louder and louder the longer he looked at Clint and imagined him bleeding to death at the hands of Hydra.

"I won't let them." He ground out. "I'll get you back to 'Tash, I swear Clint-"

Footsteps echoed down the corridor before Clint had the chance to respond and soothe Peter's mounting fears. Peter himself had frozen, jaw audibly clicking shut as he struggled to compose himself. His eyes were wide and glued to Clint as if afraid that when he blinked, he'd disappear.

A man appeared; broad statured and walking with an air of purpose.

Recognition flared in Clint's eyes as he glared at the newcomer. Cain. The man didn't acknowledge Clint initially, instead choosing to look at Peter who was resolutely staring at Clint.

"I see you met your new cell mate." Cain stated conversationally.

Peter didn't tear his gaze away from the archer when he spoke. "You broke the deal."

Confusion sparked in Clint as Cain hummed in thought. "I did, didn't I?"

A thoughtful expression clouded Cain's features as his eyes flickered from Clint to Peter and then back again. He repeated the action a few times over, a smile tugging on his lips as if he had figured something out. "You seem attached to him." He announced simply, gleefully.

Peter heaved in a breath and grit out, "You could say that."

Curiosity rose in the man's eyes, making Clint's body tense. Peter had yet to look away, even when Cain crouched off to the side. "I'd love to get into that head of yours- see what makes such an assassin tick." He mused, cutting off the teen's line of sight to Clint so he could peer directly at Peter so that they were almost nose to nose through the bars.

Peter refused to flinch back and chose to stare lifelessly ahead. "But I have to take care of the bird first." His fingers twitched and a muscle in his cheek jumped.

Cain grinned like he'd won a prize.

"Ah." He sighed triumphantly and moved to the side, peering back at Clint who had been watching the duo scrutinizingly close, barely managing to hold back his rising anger at the way the man leaned even closer to Peter, as if to whisper. His voice carried anyway in the echoey corridor. "You were made to be weapon." He said bluntly. Peter didn't blink at the accusation, didn't deny it.

"Yet he- and the other morons that call themselves heroes- fight to protect you." Cain gestured half-heartedly to Clint. Peter didn't respond, only curl his hands into fists. "No words?" Agonizingly slow, Peter turned his cold gaze to Cain.

Clint watched the man swallow- he was surprised he didn't recoil back with the hatred practically glowing in Peter's eyes. Then, he spat. A startled and hysteric laugh escaped Clint as he watched Cain jump back with a disgusted sneer on his lips as he wiped away the saliva.

He glowered at the teenager when Peter seethed out, "Checkmate, asshole." 

A/N

Peter lowkey being absoloutely manic and scary is what I live for because he has every right and motivation- and the fact that Clint is just watching it happen, obviously worried for the kid's sanity makes me feel joy. :)

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