Southern Drawls and New York Fist Fights

Talk to Me, It'll Help

"I'm sorry Pete. For- what I said. Before. In the gym."
"It's okay."

-Harley-

One fifteen minute ride on a motorcycle later, something I hated and loved at the same time, and we were sat inside a McDonald's with two bags of burgers on the table. I was munching on one of my own cheeseburgers as Clint told me about his own abuse when he was younger.

"He was drunk pretty often. My older brother practically raised me until the accident. Dad just wanted booze and was angry all the time, one night he crashed the car and both him and mom died, Barney and I were sent to an orphanage." Clint shrugged, pulling his own cheeseburger out of the bag. "About six years later the circus picked us up, trained us. Barney got jealous of me for being selected to be some assholes assistant. When I figured out the guy I was working for had this whole scheme going on, he was pretty pissed at me not wanting to be part of it. Instead of helping me when I got practically beat to shit by the dude, Barney starts yelling about loyalty and all that stuff. Barney enlisted in the army, I ended up training under a guy name Trick Shot and actually shot my brother at some point. After that, well we don't have the best relationship you could say." I nodded, my mouth full. "I'm not sure what he's even doing now. Maybe he's still with the FBI."

"Yeah, family's are shitty." I agreed. Clint chuckled, surveying me over his drink as he took a sip. "I raised my younger sister, my mom was always too busy and my dad too drunk." Clint tilted his head to the side at the words. "Her friends parents took her in awhile before I ended up here."

"That's good."

"Mhm. I'm just glad she's safe. Abbie deserves so much better than what the world gave her." I took a deep breath. "I don't know when it started. But that was all I knew. Yelling, smashed bottles, slammed doors, aching bruises. I protected Abbie from a lot of it, the worst of it was always brought down on me. Maybe part of it is because I'm gay, who knows."

"Possibly, you are from Tennessee and a small town, not very accepting there usually." Clint said around a mouthful of burger, I shrugged.

"It was never my face. He never touched my face. Only places that could be easily hidden by clothing." I leaned back in my chair, focusing my gaze on the ceiling instead of the archer in front of me. "The night I found myself in Knoxville, the night I boarded that last minute flight - it had been bad. Really fuckin' bad." I exhaled shakily, my leg bouncing beneath the table. "He was drunk, there was a few smashed bottles. Mom- was out. A night shift I think. I remember going to get a snack before heading to bed, I had been in the garage all day working on his fuckin' truck."

"Harley, take your time." Clint said softly, I nodded, taking a few deep breaths.

"I passed out, or more so was knocked out after he threw me head first into the wall. When I woke up there was blood coming from my shoulder and nose, it felt like my head was stuffed with cotton and everything ached. When I went and showered I realized how bad it was, when I saw how fuckin' bruised my chest and torso and arms were from him. As soon as he was passed out on the couch I snuck out, hailed a cab and ended up on that plane. It was such a split second decision but holy fuck it was the best damn decision I made since gettin' Abbie out." I licked my lips, waiting for Clint's reaction.

"It sucks you had to go through that." He said. "I'm sorry it happened."

"It's okay." I whispered as I righted myself, blinking away tears and staring down at the table.

Clint's phone buzzed. He flipped it over.

"Tony says the police are investigating." He told me. I nodded. "What... You don't have to answer this, but what did he say to you? The night Nat found out, that made you honestly believe you had to go back?"

"He said he would file a kidnapping." I said, my voice hoarse. Clint frowned.

"Okay. I think- and I know you don't want to go back, but we both know it's going to have to happen. The police don't have time to sort this out." I nodded, not meeting the archer's eyes. Clint sighed, running a hand down his face. "How close can we cut it?"

"Uh... I- I don't know?" I whispered, voice growing hoarse. "Maybe, like, the last day before school?"

"We can work with that. They don't have a set time line currently but they are trying to make it go fast. If they don't have reasonable evidence by Saturday to allow you to stay with Tony, we will have to send you home then. After that, well, we don't know."

"Clint?"

"Yeah kid?"

"Y'know what that's like, don't you? Going back after trying to leave?"

"Yeah. It's never fun." I nodded to his words. "We should get back to the tower before Nat thinks I stole a quin-jet to go kill your dad." Clint stood, pushing his chair in as I chuckled slightly. I wouldn't be opposed to that.

-Peter-

"Harley!" I exclaimed, practically launching myself at my friend as he walked into the lab. It was just us and Loki, who was watching in amusement. Harley caught me, hugging me tightly. My eyes widened slightly, not expecting him to react that way.

"I'm sorry, Pete." He whispered, something I probably wouldn't have heard if I didn't have my hearing. I pulled back slightly, arms resting on his shoulders. "For- what I said. Before. In the gym."

"It's okay." I replied, ignoring the way Loki was looking at us with one eyebrow raised. I pulled Harley into a hug again, resting my head on his shoulder. "I forgive you."

"Thank you."

We stayed like that, just standing in the entrance to Mr. Stark's lab hugging each other for god knows how long.

When the lab doors swished open, my spidey sense tingled and I looked up only to be hit in the face with a bright orange foam ball.