No one in their right mind would let Clint babysit Peter, which Clint himself would tell you. Though he was the only actual parent in the Avengers, he was likely to be called away on a mission with no notice, hadn't dealt with teenagers since he was one, and couldn't claim to know Tony's protege as anything better than an ally. So Clint had to ask himself how on Earth he ended up sitting in the Avengers Facility, waiting for a certain web-slinging hero to either pop out of the elevator or climb in through the window.

It was a strange set of circumstances that led to Clint's current situation. First, Steve, Natasha, Sam, and Bucky had been called away to protect an American delegation traveling to the Middle East for peace agreements. Clint would have been on the mission too, doing long-range defense with Bucky from some rooftop, but he had his own mission tomorrow and couldn't afford to travel so far away. After that, Vision and Wanda left to go on a date, something they'd been doing more and more frequently now that Vision could disguise himself as a human. That had left Bruce, Tony, and Clint in the mansion until the two geniuses were called away to identify and study some chemical weapons S.H.I.E.L.D. had confiscated from a white-supremacist group, which left Clint Barton with the unpleasant task of babysitting Peter Parker.

Babysitting really was too strong of a word, though when Natasha had teasingly called it that weeks ago, the name had stuck. Per Tony's arrangement with Peter's aunt, the kid had to spend every other weekend at the Facility to train, get used to working with the Avengers as he was expected to join when he was eighteen, and to fix and upgrade his suit. Of course, Tony had ulterior motives, but he'd never admit that he just wanted to spend time with the teenage vigilante. Tony had to complicate everything where his relationships with people were involved. The point was Peter was going to come to the Facility after finishing his patrol or mission and Tony Stark absolutely refused to let him be alone when he arrived, thus Clint's nest of blankets on the couch.

Clint didn't really mind waiting up for the kid. There was certainly no animosity between the two; on the contrary, Peter hero-worshiped Clint as he did all of the Avengers. The few quips they'd shared in battle and in the training room had proven that given time, they'd be as thick as thieves. However, Tony guarded Peter almost zealously, hardly letting the boy spend anytime with his teammates. None of them could complain, though as Peter Parker was still a minor and in high school to boot. Besides, it was clear that Tony was who Peter really wanted to see. The other Avengers were just bonuses. There would be plenty of time to get to know Peter when he became an Avenger.

"Any sign of him yet?" Clint asked, pausing the movie he was watching a bit sullenly. It was well past midnight now. It seemed more likely that Wanda and Vision would be back before Peter, and Clint normally went to bed around ten to go for a morning run with Natasha, Steve, and Sam. Not that that would happen tomorrow anyways, but he was really starting to get tired.

A holographic map sprung up in front of him, representing Clint's location with a small purple arrow and Peter's with his little spider logo. Tony's AI, F.R.I.D.A.Y., said, "Mr. Parker should be here within ten minutes if he continues moving at his current speed. Would you like to send him a message?"

Clint considered. "Do you think that I should tell him that I'm here instead of Tony?"

"Mr. Stark already told him."

"Of course he did," Clint grumbled. He ran a hand through his hair and decided there was no way he was going to stay awake long enough to hold a actual conversation without at least a little caffeine. "F.R.I.D.A.Y., can you tell the kitchen to get me half a glass of coffee? Minimum caffeine."

"Of course, Mr. Barton," she said in her charming Irish lilt. Nonetheless, Clint grimaced. Mr. Barton was what everyone called his father, his mother being the literal only exception. That name brought back memories, most of which were unpleasant, if not downright traumatic. He'd strongly considered changing his last name, but once he had created over a dozen aliases for his missions, he realized that changing his name wouldn't solve anything, just create another mask for him to don. Still, that revelation didn't make it any easier to hear.

So unable to do anything but wait, Clint stayed put. A butler came and delivered his coffee only a few minutes later, but it was too hot for him to drink right away. Clint began to pace, not because he was anxious, but just to do something. The mindless sitcom he'd put on began to annoy him, so he muted the TV. Not that that mattered much considering he'd put on the subtitles so he could know what was going on while he ate tortilla chips earlier. Just as he was beginning to think that he was overreacting, he realized that fifteen minutes had passed with no sign of Peter Parker.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y., shouldn't he be here by now?" Clint ask, sipping his coffee and instantly feeling more awake.

"Mr. Parker stopped just outside the Facility's grounds five minutes ago and stayed stationary. He is now in the elevator," she said.

Clint nodded, his unease mostly dissipating. Peter was fine, he was in the Facility. But why had he stopped outside?

A light ping sounded, announcing the arrival of his temporary ward. Clint knew he shouldn't joke about his age like that considering he truly was a genius and a very successful superhero on top of that, but it was just hard to break old habits and he and Tasha had been mercilessly teasing Tony about his child successor since the day they officially met him.

"Hey, kid," Clint said cheerfully, setting his coffee down and standing up to greet his guest.

Immediately, Clint could tell something was wrong. Peter was still in his Spider-Man suit, his mask pulled off to reveal his bruised cheekbone, split lip, and a nasty cut on his chin. Peter walked stiffly, clearly trying not to limp, which made Clint wonder if he should have been watching the news to see what the hell had happened to Peter that night. Peter ran a hand through his sweaty brown curls before composing a forced smile, never one to let on how much pain he was in.

"Hi," Peter said, his voice a little hoarse. "How'd you get stuck on Peter-watch?"

"Process of elimination. Everyone else got called away," Clint replied, watching him carefully as he made his way over to the kitchen, where an extra large pizza was waiting for him in the oven. Peter was always ravenous after his patrols and Stark had learned to always have food hot and ready for his arrival.

"So what were you up to tonight?" Clint asked conversationally.

"Started out as a normal patrol, ended as a knife fight near the docks. Had to swing out of there fast after calling the police," Peter said, hissing under his breath as he bent over to grab the pizza.

Despite constant reassurances from all of the Avengers, the police were still obligated to treat Spider-Man as a public threat until he signed the Sokovia Accords, no matter how many lives he saved. The only reason they weren't charged with aiding and abetting a criminal was because no one wanted to mess with them now that Bruce was back and Thor had taken to visiting frequently. That aside, the Avengers' Facility was a thousand times more secure than even the Raft, though Clint loathed to think of that place.

"What'd they do wrong?"

"Human trafficking. Minors, all girls. Some were still in their nightgowns." The disgust and hatred in Peter's voice was clear. Peter sauntered back into the living room and flopped down onto the couch opposite Clint. The vigilante smirked at Clint and asked sarcastically, "So how was your night?"

If Clint couldn't see how beat up Peter was, he might have been in the mood to play along. Instead, he merely said, "Long."

Peter looked inclined to agree, but chose to dig into his pizza instead. After devouring a whole slice and realizing that Clint hadn't budged an inch, Peter looked up at him curiously.

"You know you don't have to stay, right? Mr. Stark just wants someone here to make sure that I don't need anything," Peter said.

"I don't know, it seems like you might need some first aid so I better stay," Clint said evenly, his expression not so much as twitching.

Peter frowned and set his pizza aside. He tucked his hands under his legs, considering what to say to that, before finally meeting Clint's eyes. "I already cleaned any of my wounds that can get infected. My speed healing should take care of the rest by morning."

Clint shrugged. "If you say so."

Still, Clint didn't budge. Peter eyed him warily, but Clint just pulled out his phone and started reviewing his mission for tomorrow, something Fury had asked him to do yesterday. He figured that he might as well make this time productive since it seemed unlikely that Peter was going to say anything else, hellbent as he was on devouring the pizza whole. Even after living with the bottomless pits that were Bruce after a Hulk-out, Steve, Bucky, and Thor, Peter's appetite continued to surprise him. The kid was well-built but still a twig. Where did all of the food go?

Peter set the now empty pizza box on the table and stood up with a poorly concealed grimace. "I'm going to head up to my room now. See you tomorrow."

Clint nodded, eyes still fixed on his mission brief. That seemed good enough for Peter to make his escape, though. Peter limped his way over to the elevator, giving Clint a clear view of his injured leg.

"A knife fight, you said?"

Peter stumbled and looked at Clint warily. "What?"

"A knife fight, right?" Clint asked again, still scrolling through his phone nonchalantly.

"Yes," he said stiffly, his shoulders instinctively hunching as if to defend himself against Clint's inquiries. "Why are you asking that now?"

"Funny thing about knives.; they can cut skin, but they have to cut the layers on top of it too, yet your suit's leg is perfectly intact. Not a single tear," Clint said, cocking his head. "Odd, don't you think?"

Peter's jaw clenched. "I never said my leg was cut."

"No, you didn't. But seeing as how Tony Stark trusted me enough to watch over the person he worries the most about, I think I should at least make sure that your leg doesn't heal wrong. Take it from someone who's had to rebreak their arm, you want to get it right the first time," Clint said bluntly, setting the phone down. He narrowed his eyes. "Unless you feel like explaining to your aunt and Tony why you're limping."

Peter bit his lip and then winced, having forgotten that it was split. Still, Clint had worked as a spy long enough to read Peter's very obvious body language. He was nervous about something, and not just Clint's mild threat.

Peter's big brown eyes met his. "If I show you, will you swear not to tell either Mr. Stark or May?"

"I promise," Clint said solemnly.

Peter sighed. He limped his way back over to Clint's couch and tapped the spider icon on the front of his suit. It expanded, allowing Peter to wiggle out of it and giving Clint an up close look at all of his bruises and cuts on his chest and arms, of which there was an alarming number.

"Jesus Christ, kid. If anyone saw this, they'd call Child Welfare," Clint said, his mouth moving before his mind could stop it.

"I know. I've been changing in the bathroom stalls before P.E. for the past week. Normally it's not so bad."

And it probably wasn't with Peter's healing factor, but that didn't make it any easier to look at. Clint had seen far worse admittedly, but seeing it on a teenager's body was a different kind of painful. Shaking that gruesome thought away, he said, "And how's the leg?"

Peter groaned in pain as he pulled his leg out of the suit and up onto the couch. Clint surveyed the mangled limb impassively, not wanting to scare Peter anymore than he undoubtedly was. Aside from the fact that it was entirely black and blue, the break in his shin was obvious. It wasn't the worst he'd seen (that honor was given to Coulson's protruding femur in Hong Kong), but it was far from good.

"You shouldn't have walked on that," Clint said quietly.

Peter rubbed the back of his neck and looked away. "I swung most of the way here. I thought that it would be better by now."

And for a kid with speed healing, he probably really thought that. God knows that Clint spent enough time around Steve and Bucky to learn that those with speed healing were horrible judges of how hurt they really were.

Clint sighed. "Kid, I'm going to be honest, you need to get that checked out right now."

"No! I can't go to regular doctor and if I go to the infirmary here, they'll tell Tony and then he'll freak out and call May and then she'll freak out-"

"Peter," Clint interrupted calmly. Peter looked at him, shocked. Clint had never called him by his first name before. Seeing that he had his undivided attention, Clint said, "Take a deep breath. I know how to do enough first aid to help."

"You do?" Peter asked hopefully, his brown eyes adorably wide.

"Yeah. Just...give me a minute, alright?"

"Okay," Peter agreed, too relieved to notice anything off about Clint's tone.

Clint hopped up and headed towards the first aid kit he knew was in the hall closet. He'd had to use it himself countless times for minor cuts and bruises. Nat liked to joke that there were always ten bandages hidden under his clothes, which was unfortunately accurate. It was tough being a regular human on a team of gods and super soldiers.

Once Clint was far enough down the hall that he was sure Peter couldn't overhear him, he quietly asked, "Have you already told Tony about Peter's injuries?"

"I am only required to alert Mr. Stark if Mr. Parker is in critical condition or his mental capacity has been affected," F.R.I.D.A.Y. responded.

Clint sighed in relief. He didn't want Tony to scold Peter for being reckless or whatever when the kid had just saved a bunch of little girls' lives that night. After giving the deadly child-assassin Natalia Romanova a second chance so many years ago, Clint had a special hatred for any person who harmed a child, regardless if it's sex trafficking or training them to be weapons for Mother Russia.

Casting off those dark thoughts, Clint grabbed the first aid kit and headed back to where Peter was waiting patiently, his leg extended on the couch. As Clint settled back down next to him, popping open the kit, he looked at Peter's suit curiously.

"Why a onesie?"

"What?" Peter asked, his innocent brown eyes wide. Clint had caught him off guard. That was good. The more he distracted Peter, the less he'd worry about his leg.

"You could have had any suit in the world, yet you chose a spider-themed onesie. What led to that decision?"

"Oh." Peter rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, avoiding eye contact again. "That. Well, I guess Mr. Stark told you about the radioactive spider, right?"

"Yup. Had a hard time believing it at first. You know how Tony likes to mess with people," Clint said, carefully grabbing Peter's leg and deciding what the best way to go about this was. As a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, he'd had extensive medical training, but he'd rarely had to use it since joining the Avengers. If Bruce and Tony's top notch team of doctors couldn't save someone, there was no way he could.

"Yeah, I guess I do. Anyways, all my powers are reflective of what that spider could do. The strength, the speed, the senses, the equilibrium that allows me to walk on walls, so I knew that whatever suit I got would need to be lightweight to not mess with my powers, and block out unnecessary stimuli. Tony kept that in mind when he made this," Peter said, plucking at it lightly. "Besides, who are you to judge? You're not wearing armor into battle either."

"I'm a sniper, kid. I don't go one-on-one with my enemies unless I have to, unlike you. Besides, my suits have some padding. Maybe not enough for a bullet, but it can handle a knife or bat," Clint said. "Does anesthesia work on you?"

"Yeah, Mr. Stark found a formula that works on me. It won't knock me out, but it will numb the pain. There should be some in the kit. Mr. Stark said he put it in all of them," Peter said with a shoulder shrug, as if Clint should have expected this sort of over-protectiveness from Tony. In hindsight, he should have.

Clint dug around through the kit and found a bottle and syringe of anesthesia labeled For the Spider-Kid at the bottom of the kit. Clint grinned and pulled out the iodine to sterilize the area. Despite Peter's reassurances that he'd already done so, Clint decided to err on the side of caution.

"You ready to do this, kid?" Clint asked after the rubbing on the iodine.

Peter was definitely paler than he was a minute ago, but he still managed to flash Clint a crooked smile and quip, "Ready when you are, doc."

Damn, Tony was a lucky man. Why couldn't Clint have found a wise-cracking sidekick with a heart of gold? Where was the justice?

Clint's respect for Peter grew tenfold that night. Not only did Peter handle his leg getting reset like a badass, he even helped Clint wrap up his leg securely so it could heal properly and allowed Clint to help him hop over to his suite without complaint. Considering how prickly Nat and Tony could get when they were injured, it was a welcome change of pace for Peter to admit that he needed help.

"Tell F.R.I.D.A.Y. if anything happens to your leg, okay? Or call me. No excuses about not wanting to disturb me. If I'm lying to one of my teammates to protect you, you got to make sure that your leg really heals," Clint said sternly as Peter dropped his suit on the ground and shrugged on the pajama pants Clint had handed him all while sitting. It was too soon to put pressure on his leg.

"I will. Thanks, Clint," Peter said sincerely, sliding under the covers awkwardly.

Clint waved away his gratitude. "Really, kid, it's nothing. You're going to be an Avenger soon. Might as well treat you like a teammate now."

Peter smiled, and Clint took that as his cue to leave. He headed towards the door, the lights automatically turning off as he went. Just as he was about to step into the hall, Peter stopped him.

"What is it, kid?" Clint asked, turning around to face the teenager.

Peter twisted his hands. "You never asked me how I hurt my leg."

Huh. That wasn't what Clint was expecting.

"Yeah, I guess I didn't," Clint said carefully, sensing that this was important to Peter for whatever reason.

"Why not? Everyone else would have."

Peter's confusion was evident and answer enough for Clint. Peter was used to May and Tony treating him like a porcelain doll. Sure, they trusted him enough to swing around the city every other night, but the second he got a scratch, they all but cocooned him in bubble wrap. Peter couldn't understand why Clint didn't do the same.

Clint shrugged. "I figured if it mattered, you would have told me."

Peter blinked. "Oh."

"Yeah. And now that we're in the AM's, I think it's time we both get some sleep. I'll see you in the morning," Clint said, starting to pull the door shut. Just before it closed, Clint said, "But if you ever do need to talk about tonight, I'll be there."

Clint shut the door before Peter could say anything else. That was enough touchy feely stuff for one night. Clint finally trudge up to his room. He stumbled as he pulled off his clothes and onto his bed. The last thing Clint remembered before passing out was groaning as he saw the clock on his nightstand read 2:12.

"You're quiet today," Tony commented as Peter handed him the requested memory drive and plugged in into the latest prototype of his suit. This one was particularly special as it was laced with vibranium, a gift from T'Challa after the Avengers had saved some Wakandan ambassadors in Hong Kong.

Peter shrugged. "Just tired from my patrol last night, I guess."

It wasn't really a lie. More like a half-truth. Peter was tired from going to bed so late, but the real reason he was quiet was because of his leg. His speed healing and Clint's nursing had technically mended his broken leg, but it still throbbed and ached incessantly. Every step Peter took made him grit his teeth, but there was no way in hell he was going to tell Tony that.

"Barton did mention you got here really late." Tony chuckled. "You should have seen him this morning. He was drinking coffee straight from the pot and complaining to Natasha while she tried to brief him on his mission."

Peter frowned. If Natasha was at the Facility, she would have made a point to check up on her pauk, even if it was just to unnerve Tony, who couldn't understand how his teammate and protege had gotten so close that she called him spider in Russian. "I didn't see either of them this morning."

"Nat was Skyping him, she wasn't actually here. As for Clint, the timetable for his mission got moved up. You just missed him," Tony said. "Done with that wiring yet?"

"Yeah, here," Peter said, handing it to Tony. After Ned taught him the basics, Tony had taken over his electronic engineering studies and made it his personal mission to ensure that Peter could make a passable suit out of anything and an extraordinary one with the right materials. If he were honest though, he preferred mechanical engineering. Most of Tony's tech was not at a beginner level.

"You know, Clint mentioned something kind of out of character for him," Tony said after a minute or so of companionable silence.

"Don't leave me hanging. What'd he say?" Peter asked, pushing down his nerves. Clint said he wouldn't tell Tony, that they were all but teammates. Still, wasn't Tony already his teammate? Wouldn't he take his actual teammate's side?

Tony set down his tools and spun his wheely chair around to face Peter. "He suggested that I get him and Natasha to teach you to lie."

Peter blinked. That was unexpected.

"I know, it sounds crazy," Tony said, accurately interpreting Peter's expression. "But it's actually not a bad idea."

"What?"

Tony looked at him curiously, not put off by his uncharacteristic outburst. "Why are you so opposed?"

Oh, God, where to start? Peter was the worst liar in the history of the universe. His "secret" identity was known by May, Ned, Toomes, Happy, Pepper, and all of the Avengers, and MJ had already figured it out but hadn't confronted him yet. There was nothing Clint and Natasha could teach him that would change that. Besides, he was the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. Why did he need to know how to lie?

"I'm not a spy, Tony, I'm a vigilante. Why would Clint even suggest this? I thought they're all leaving my training to you."

Tony shifted uncomfortably. "They used to. Not so much anymore. As much as I hate to admit it, I can't teach you everything you need to know. I fight in a nearly indestructible suit of armor. You don't. Maybe it's time you learned from some of the others."

Peter narrowed his eyes. Tony never acted like this, like he was guilty. What exactly had Clint said to him to make him this nervous? "You already said yes to Clint, didn't you?"

Tony sighed. "How mad would you be if I did?"

Peter considered. "Not as mad as I could be if you at least gave me a good reason. You've always given me a choice in what I do with you guys in the past."

Tony groaned and rubbed his face wearily. "I know, trust me, I can't believe that Barton talked me into this either. But I really do think that he's right. Everyone else on the team has had covert ops training of some kind, except for Vision and Thor obviously, and we've all had to use it. Besides, with how many people already know your secret identity, this can only help."

"I still wish you would have asked me first," Peter pouted, crossing his arms stubbornly.

"How bout this: for every session you do with Natasha and Clint, I'll let you take off a part of the Baby Monitor Protocol," Tony said, a satisfied gleam in his eyes. He knew this was something Peter couldn't refuse.

"That's a low move and you know it," Peter complained.

"Going once."

Peter rolled his eyes. "Fine, I'll do the stupid sessions. You better not back out of the deal, though."

Tony put his hand on his chest and gave Peter his best offended look. "You wound me. I'm a man of my word."

"Pepper says to never believe you when you say that."

If it was possible, Tony looked even more offended. "And who are you going to believe? Her or me?"

"That's a trap. I'm not going to give you ammunition in this strange custody battle between you and your wife," Peter said, getting back to the Iron Man gauntlet on the table in front of him. He flicked his hands, pulling up blue screens of light that showed him the complete schematics and design of Tony's prototype. He narrowed it down to the gauntlet.

"It's not a custody battle," Tony said indignantly. Peter arched an eyebrow at him. "It's not," Tony insisted, returning to his work, too. "Pepper is trying to turn you against me. This is a war."

"She's not trying to turn me against you, I just agree with her that you need to spend less time in your workshop and more time with actual people," Peter said.

"You got to admit, this place is way cooler than socializing," Tony said, gesturing to the holographic screens, Iron Man suits, and various Avengers' weapons on display.

"If I say yes, can I get out of lying class?"

"Shut up and work, kid."

If they had known that HYDRA was involved with the terror attacks that Bucky was investigating, they never would have brought Peter with them.

It seemed logical at the time. Peter needed more field experience outside of New York and the rest of them wanted a little more backup. Two birds, one stone. Even Tony admitted that with Clint, Natasha, and Bucky watching over his mentee, there was no reason to worry.

They couldn't have been more wrong.

"Where's Nat? I lost sight of her," Clint said anxiously, firing round after round of the gun Bucky had tossed his way when they realized his arrows couldn't penetrate the HYDRA agents's armor. Normally if that was the case, he'd just go for precision shots, aiming for chinks in the armor or unstable objects around them, but he didn't have time for that. Not when a small army was descending on them wave after wave.

"She got grazed on the arm. I'm covering her while Spider-Kid swings his way over here to get her to you. You have the most secure location," Bucky said calmly, shouts and gunfire nearly drowning out his voice. Still, Bucky was the person Clint was least worried about at the moment. He had more experience fighting HYDRA than any of them, having once been their most feared agent.

Speak of the devil, Clint thought wryly as Peter swung past him, flipping and webbing up HYDRA agents as he went. Still, Clint worried. Peter had been up against insane odds before but not this many adversaries at a time.

"I know this is probably a bad time, but I have to say the upgrades Mr. Stark made to my suit are working great," Peter said as he leapt into a building, presumably where Bucky and Natasha were.

"Make sure to tell him that when we get back," Clint said, admiring the scopes on Bucky's sniper rifle. "Hey, Barnes, where'd you get this thing?"

"Present from Shuri. Try not to lose it."

Clint frowned. "It's not made of vibranium, is it?"

"No, only my arm is. Shuri might have a soft spot for me, but I'm not worth that much vibranium. Peter has Natasha. Can you clear a path for them to get back to the Quinjet?"

"No way. I could change positions, but then I'd be exposed and Laura complains whenever I get shot. I think we need to call in backup."

"What backup? The rest of the team is halfway around the world and Fury is off the grid for another month, minimum," Natasha said sharply. The distinctive sound of her Widow Stings crackled over the comms. That was reassuring, even though he'd seen her power through much worse than bullet grazes.

"She's right. Make a break for the Quinjet when you can. Try not to get shot," Bucky said.

"I hate this plan," Peter grumbled.

"Too bad. Get moving everyo-" a grunt of pain cut off the rest of Bucky's sentence. Clint would usually just brush this off as part of the battle, but the static that followed could only mean one thing; Bucky's comms were broken.

"Shit. Peter, bring Natasha to me and then go back for Bucky," Clint ordered, running down the fire escape as fast as he could while still dodging bullets.

"Copy that. On my way," Peter said.

Peter swung over to Clint and set Natasha down gently before taser-webbing an agent that was taking aim at them. Peter gave them a small salute before crawling up a wall and breaking through a window.

"What were you even doing inside? The fight's out here," Clint said as he and Natasha zigzagged their way back to the Quinjet.

"I noticed that they were defending that building so I thought I'd take a look. I underestimated how many people they'd leave behind to guard it. Clint, I think that's their main base," Natasha said.

"Bucky is good enough to track down their headquarters, and this area is isolated enough that their movements would go unnoticed. Fury's gonna shit himself when we tell him about this place," Clint said gleefully. It was rare they found something before he did.

"If you want to tell hi-" Natasha shut up as an ear-shattering explosion went off. They both dove behind the nearest buildings for cover and clutched their ears. Once their ears stopped ringing, they peeked back around the corner.

"What the hell blew up?" Clint asked, looking around at the perfectly intact block. No smoke or dust wafted upwards, no debris was strewn about the street. It almost seemed as if they'd imagined it.

Natasha frowned and asked, "Peter? Do you know what that was?"

Static was her only answer, but they didn't panic. They'd been on dozens of ops gone wrong. This was just the latest.

"Should we go for the Quinjet or go back for them?" Clint asked. Natasha was definitely the better strategist between the two of them.

She frowned. "Go back. Peter and Bucky need us sooner rather than later."

Clint nodded. "How's your arm?"

"It won't slow me down," Natasha said, giving him the answer he was really looking for. They had to proceed as if Bucky and Peter were down for the count, which meant Clint needed to know if she was more of an asset or a hindrance. It was harsh, but such was life in their line of work.

After a terse nod, they grabbed trash can lids and charged back up the block, expecting gunfire to greet them, but nothing happened. That only heightened Clint's nerves. Where had all the HYDRA agents gone?

"Clint," Natasha said quietly. He gave her a confused look and quickly spun around as he saw Natasha was facing the opposite way. Dread settled in his gut as ten HYDRA agents in a straight line trained their guns on them, the scene eerily resembling an execution squad.

"We have the Soldier and Stark's protege. Stand down now and we won't kill them," one of the agents standing towards the center said, a black band with a red HYDRA skull-octopus thing on it identifying him as a leader of sorts.

And this was where the world had it wrong; Black Widow and Hawkeye could fight HYDRA agents all day long, but only under the right conditions. This was not a fight they could win, not when HYDRA could blow their brains out before they so much as twitched their pinky fingers, because no matter how much they acted otherwise, Natasha and Clint were only human.

In unison, Clint and Natasha tossed their weapons on the ground, sank down to their knees, and put their hands on their head. The HYDRA agents kept their weapons carefully trained on them anyways.

"Smart choice," the agent said, a smile evident in his voice.

There was a barked command and then everything went dark.

Clint woke up when a bucket of ice-cold water was splashed on his face.

"Wake up," a man said coolly as Clint coughed and shivered.

Slowly, Clint opened his eyes and immediately groaned. He and Natasha were chained up side by side against the wall, and it looked like she'd also taken the ice bucket challenge. They'd also been mostly stripped of their gear, and quite a few of the agents in room were leering at Natasha's exposed body, particularly her chest. HYDRA agents stood nearby, guns at ready, but just out of striking range should their prisoners escape. Not that that was a feasible option as their hands were encased in iron gloves and shackled to the wall above them, and their midsections, arms, legs, and ankles were likewise pinned down.

Bucky and Peter were similarly tied up on the opposite wall, perhaps fifteen yards away, with some additional power dampeners. Most of the agents in the room had their guns trained on those two, not that either of them noticed. Peter was still out cold, his head slumped on his bare chest as they had taken away his suit and only bothered to give him some ratty old pants to cover up. Dozens of scrapes and bruises littered his body, much more than there had been when Clint patched up his leg a month ago, but while the wounds were fresh, none of them looked like they'd been inflicted by a person. Bucky, unlike Peter, was awake and pissed off, evident by what Clint had deemed his I'm going to enjoy killing you face. His vibranium arm hadn't been removed, likely because the agents hadn't figured out how, but it was locked down with at least seven more metal bands than his other arm.

"How did you find this base?" the same agent who had been speaking to them outside demanded, his face red with rage.

Clint looked at him curiously, but said nothing.

"Answer me!" he shouted, his face growing even redder if that was possible.

Clint just gave him the same confused look.

"He's deaf, dumbass," Natasha drawled. "You took his hearing aids."

Thank God Natasha remembered this old plan, Clint thought. It was unlikely to work against HYDRA, but they'd fooled many people into giving back his comms by claiming they're hearing aids.

The agent scoffed. "You lie. Everyone would know if Hawkeye were deaf."

Natasha shrugged, or at least tried to, but the chains hindered her movement. "Either way, he doesn't know anything. I just asked him to help me with the op. Everything was on a need to know basis and he didn't need to know."

Success. All of the agents' attention had shifted to Natasha, allowing Bucky and Clint to communicate without anyone noticing. Bucky blinked rapidly, knowing that Natasha could only buy them so much time.

R. E. A. C. H. Q. U. I. N. J. E. T. Clint was lucky that the lights were bright otherwise he might have missed Bucky's question. No Morse Code was required for his response. Clint shook his head. He and Nat hadn't reached the Quinjet so that meant the other Avengers didn't know anything was wrong yet. Hopefully Karen, Peter's A.I., would contact Tony, but if the suit was damaged, Karen might not be able to reach Tony.

P. E. T. E. R. O. K. Clint blinked at Bucky, growing increasingly worried about the teenager who still hadn't woken up despite the clamor. The few times Peter fell asleep, curled up next to Tony or Natasha and adorably exhausted after patrols or missions, he was always woken up by the slightest sound. Once, Clint taking a sip of coffee had caused Peter to bolt awake.

Bucky shook his head. S. M. T. H. N. G. W. R. N. G.

It took Clint a minute to figure out Bucky meant "something wrong." That wasn't the answer Clint was hoping for. Before he could ask anything else, the leader turned back to Clint. Natasha's focus immediately switched to Bucky, Morse Code already flying between them.

"Miss Romanoff assures us that you don't know anything about this op, but I think we both know that a man with your talents doesn't blindly follow anyone," he said.

"Could you step closer? I can't read your lips from there," Clint said, just a little too loud to add to the illusion that he truly was deaf and was unable to tell how loud he was talking.

His lip curled with disgust. "We're HYDRA, not some petty terror group who you can easily fool. We would know if you were deaf."

Clint just raised his eyebrows expectantly, causing the agent's face to go a familiar shade of red and bark at one of the agents hovering near him, typing furiously on a tablet of some kind, "We're wasting our time. Have you found it yet?"

"Yes, sir, but I don't have the clearance to access it. I'm not sure if you do either, Commander," the agent added hesitantly, clearly worried about what his superior's reaction would be. Clint actually pitied the young agent. He couldn't have been more than twenty and he'd already ruined his entire life by getting mixed up with HYDRA. Still, he knew better than to feel too much sympathy. HYDRA's recruitment methods were lackluster at best. The young agent had probably sought them out, like so many others before him.

"Let me see that," the leader, the commander, growled, reaching for the tablet. The remaining HYDRA cells must have been more organized than they originally thought if they had such a clearly established hierarchy already. The young agent handed it over and backed up, terror plain on his face. Looks like the commander didn't treat his underlings well. Clint tucked the useful piece of information away for later. You never knew what could end up saving your life later.

"Ha! What was that, agent?" the commander taunted, showing something to the scared agent. Clint couldn't see what it was, but judging from Bucky's low growl, it wasn't good.

The commander stalked towards Bucky, turning his back completely to him and Natasha. The two spies shared confused glances. Of everyone in the room, Bucky was the least likely to give in to interrogation or torture after everything he'd been through. Understanding dawned on them as they heard the first word.

"Longing."

Fear. There was fear in Bucky's eyes as he heard those dreaded words, words that he had no doubt never expected to hear again. They'd all thought Zemo was the last one to find the trigger words for the Winter Soldier and had disposed of the red book that he'd found them in, but it turns out there was another copy of them on that tablet.

"Rusted."

Logically, Clint knew they had no reason to worry. Shuri swore that the programming was out, that the Winter Soldier was gone forever. Still, he was formulating what to do if the Winter Soldier should appear, and he knew Natasha was doing the same next to him. Peter was still mercifully knocked out.

"Seventeen."

Bucky clenched his fists, one metal, one flesh, a clear sign that he was trying to break free, but the restraints held fast. Clint hadn't been there, but he'd seen the footage of Bucky escaping from the CIA's isolation cell in Germany, of how he'd broken out of the chair and punched his way out only for Zemo to finish the trigger words. How strong were these restraints to contain a super soldier with a vibranium arm?

"Daybreak. Furnace. Nine. Benign." The creepy Russian chanting was causing Clint's stomach to cramp though he reminded himself that Shuri had cured him. The Winter Soldier was gone. So why did Bucky look so terrified?

"Homecoming. One. Freight car."

No one in the room dared to breathe as they stared at Bucky, Clint and Natasha least of all. The soldier's face was pale, his eyes dark, and his breathing shallow. With his head angled down, Clint couldn't see Bucky's expression, couldn't tell whether he was their puppet or an Avenger.

"Soldat?" the commander asked cautiously, creeping forward out of morbid curiosity.

Bucky's answering snarl made Clint's ears ring. Not that he minded. It proved that Shuri had done her job well, though he would never admit that he doubted her work to anyone.

"I don't understand. Commander, what happened?" one of the agents asked, looking at the tablet. "Is it in the right order?"

The HYDRA agents converged around the tablet, shoving their way forward and shouting to be heard. Clearly, they expected the Winter Soldier to solve all of their problems and were at a loss of what to do now that that wasn't an option. Maybe the HYDRA cell wasn't as organized as they appeared.

"Clint," Natasha murmured. He looked at her questioningly and she jerked her chin towards the opposite wall. Or rather, to where Peter Parker was trying to not hyperventilate.

"Shit," he muttered. Natasha nodded in agreement. Bucky must have woken Peter up and he was too focused on the agents to notice.

God, Peter looked like hell. Dark bags had formed under his eyes, made all the more prominent by his deathly pale skin and the blood trickling down from a wound hidden by his messy curls. The bruises and gashes peppering his skin hadn't healed like they normally would thanks to the power dampeners. None of his external injuries accounted for his panic, though. No, it was Peter Parker's heightened senses that were attacking him.

Peter's pupils were shrinking and growing, a sure sign that he had a concussion and was having trouble processing the bright lights in the room that were a gift to Clint and a curse to a kid with enhanced sight. He thrashed and then winced as the shackles and power dampeners cut into his wrists, blood welling up. It was the rapid rise and fall of Peter's chest that worried Clint the most. If he didn't calm down, the HYDRA agents were going to notice him sooner rather than later.

"Peter," Natasha whispered. Clint barely heard her but Peter's dilated eyes shot right to her. That was kinda creepy, Clint decided. He'd done some crazy things with S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Avengers, but it was still weird to deal with super powers.

"Moy malen'kiy pauk, you need to breathe," Natasha said. Clint wasn't sure when Natasha had taken to calling Peter her little spider, but Clint didn't care as it never failed to freak out Tony, who still couldn't figure out why he let former spies and assassins hang out with his innocent little hero.

Peter focused on her and tried to even his breathing, but Clint could tell he was freaking out hard. Clint thought back to the last mission he'd been on with Peter. He'd nearly had a panic attack when Tony's suit had been damaged and he'd plummeted into a frozen lakebed. Tony, of course, had a backup power reserve that allowed him to blast his way back up to shore, but he still ended up spending the majority of the ride back on the Quinjet reassuring Peter that he was fine. What had he done to calm him down? If the emotional mess of human being that was Tony Stark could reach a panicking teenager, then so could Clint. He was the only one of them with actual children, for God's sake.

"Peter, was your suit damaged?" Clint asked, careful to keep his voice low. Clint had lost all feeling in his hands and arms, the blood flow gone after having been suspended for so long. How long did it take to reach this state? How much time had passed since their battle?

Peter blinked, but he stopped trashing. Good. That was good. Progress, and all that.

"Peter, did your A.I. call for backup?" Clint tried again.

Peter muttered something to Bucky, well aware that Clint and Natasha couldn't hear him without also alerting the HYDRA agents. Bucky turned towards Clint and blinked, Natasha's view blocked by the cluster of agents.

D. O. E. S. N. T. K. N. O. W. Bucky blinked, looking put out. He cast a worried look at Peter and then gestured to the dampeners. Clint frowned.

"Peter doesn't know if his suit was damaged, so there's a fifty-fifty chance that the others are coming for us. Tasha, would power dampeners affect Bucky?" Clint asked.

"Maybe not," she said, clearly deep in thought. "He's enhanced, but he doesn't really have powers. Not the way Wanda and Peter do. Why? What'd he say?"

"He didn't, he just gestured. I think he can get out if we keep them occupied for long enough."

She tried to shrug again. "It's worth a shot."

Their luck ran out before they could try anything. The agents split up, some of the guards returning to their posts. Only the commander and the agent who originally had the tablet were still arguing about it. Immediately, one of the guards noticed Peter's eyes were open. The kid didn't even have a chance to pretend to be asleep like Natasha and Clint had taught him.

"Commander, the child," one of the guards said, gesturing to Peter. Natasha and Clint traded worried glances but were unable to do anything as the agents crowded around Peter.

"So you're finally awake," the commander said. He inspected the power dampeners with pleasure. "They really do their work, don't they? Tell me, what does it feel like to have all of your powers, everything that makes you special, stripped away? To be powerless?"

Peter's chest rose and fell rapidly, though Clint could tell it was to control his rage, not his panic, this time. Peter maintained eye contact, his pupils still dilated, but didn't say anything.

"So unusual for the righteous Avengers to risk the life of one as young as you. What would people say when they found out about their child soldier?" the commander mused. Though the three adults were able to keep their expressions neutral, Peter shifted, revealing his discomfort with the topic.

"You see, child, your companions haven't been very forthcoming. If you were to help us out, perhaps we might be inclined to keep your age concealed from the public," the commander suggested.

As horrible as things were, they had two things going for them. One, HYDRA clearly hadn't figured out Peter's identity otherwise they'd be using his actual name, and two, with all the attention on Peter, Bucky had started working on removing the power dampeners. Still, Clint didn't want HYDRA's attention on Peter, but he had no way of redirecting it to himself without revealing how worried he was about Peter.

"Go to hell," Peter said, his voice raspy and cracking so much that Clint winced. He sounded as horrible as he looked.

The commander expected that answer. "Agent? Now."

Clint tensed, ready for the agents to taser or punch or choke Peter, but instead, the lights were turned off. Clint waited. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen seconds. Thirteen seconds and then the lights were turned back on, much brighter than before. Clint closed his eyes as they started stinging, but it wasn't until he heard Peter's pained gasped that he understood what the point was. If Clint, a regular guy with slightly better than normal eyes, was uncomfortable with the brightness, what did a person with enhanced eyes feel?

"Open his eyes," the commander ordered. Clint could hear Peter thrash, ready to fend off anyone who came near him, but crying all the while.

A few tears leaking out, Clint cracked his eyes open, terrified of what would happen next. The HYDRA agents had sunglasses on as two of them stalked towards Peter to carry out their orders. The agents drew their arms back, hands curling into fists, and punched Peter in his bruised and bloodied stomach, his eyes fluttering open automatically in response to the pain. Peter screamed a full octave above than his already high-pitched voice then bit down on his lip hard enough to draw blood.

"Lights," the commander said simply. The lights were dimmed, enough so that Clint could hear both Peter and Bucky's audible sighs of relief. The commander looked expectantly at Peter. "Are you ready to start talking?"

Peter spit blood right onto the commanders face. Clint wished he had a camera to capture both Peter's furious expression and all of the HYDRA agents's outrage.

"Lieutenant," the commander said quietly, pulling out a handkerchief and wiping the blood off his face. "Even brighter this time."

Peter's screams were the worst thing he'd ever heard. He tried to keep them in, but whenever the lights were brightened, he couldn't help himself. Clint had seen Peter withstand a repulsor shot from Rhodey point blank with hardly more than a grunt, yet he was screaming, begging for HYDRA to stop. Natasha had actually shut her eyes, unable to watch. Clint would have done the same if he didn't know that Peter was acting.

Peter was in pain. His heightened senses couldn't help but work against him with all the excess stimuli, but the screams were manufactured. HYDRA thought it would be easy to break him, so Peter gave them what they wanted to see while simultaneously distracting them from Bucky's efforts to get out of the restraints. It took Clint far longer to realize this than he wanted to admit, especially since he had taught Peter this tactic. Use their biases against them, turn it into a performance, and stay consistent. They would grow suspicious if Peter readily agreed to help them, so no matter how much it hurt his eyes, he had to wait for his performance to reach its climax before "giving in," which appeared to be happening now.

"Stop! I'll tell you! I swear, I'll tell you whatever you want to know if you turn off the goddamn lights," Peter shouted, thrashing his hands and arms as if he were trying to cover his eyes.

The lights were dimmed immediately. Peter cried some more as his eyes were forced to adjust again, but Bucky signaled that he was almost free of the restraints. Peter just needed to keep lying for a little longer. If he hadn't lost all feeling in his fingers, Clint could have crossed them.

The commander gave the floor to the lieutenant, who immediately began asking Peter anything and everything, including the location of the Avengers Facility, Stark Industries research labs, and dozens of security codes and measures. Unfortunately for the lieutenant, Clint had taught Peter well. He stuttered and shied away from Natasha and Clint's burning eye contact and pretended to not understand Tony's complex security measures, acting like a scared kid and not a well trained vigilante.

"And what about Wakanda? The Avengers are allies with their King and Princess. You must have some way to contact them or reach their nation," the lieutenant pressed eagerly.

Peter scrunched up his face in confusion. "They don't let outsiders in, only some refugees. I've never been there."

"Your teammate has a vibranium arm and you expect me to believe that you've never been there?"

"I met T'Challa and Shuri a few times, but always for missions. Tony or Steve were always the ones to call him. They have a special phone Shuri made for them," Peter said. He smoothly mixed the lies and truths together. He had only met Shuri and T'Challa a few times, but neglected to mention how close he'd gotten to both of the royals in that time, enough so that Shuri and Peter Skyped on a regular basis. As for the phone, Shuri had given all of the Avengers kimono beads in case an emergency ever arose, Peter included. They should have brought them on this mission, though HYDRA would have taken them away as soon as they were inevitably captured.

"Fine. What about S.H.I.E.L.D?"

"What about it? It fell apart years ago when you guys infiltrated it. All of their bases have been scraped clean by the C.I.A. and blown to bits," Peter said. That actually was the truth. The new S.H.I.E.L.D. had entirely new bases, unknown to even the Avengers themselves. They weren't taking any chances this time around.

"And Nick Fury? We know he's still in contact with the Avengers."

"Yeah, he is, but Tony doesn't let me near him. To protect my age and identity."

Clint could have kissed Peter. He maintained eye contact, didn't stutter or hesitate, and controlled his very obvious breathing. It was everything Clint and Tasha had drilled into his head over the past few weeks. Though she hid it well, Natasha was glowing with pride beside him, finally catching on to what Peter was doing now that he was lying through his teeth.

The commander and his cherry-red face shoved the lieutenant aside and stormed right up to Peter. "You stupid child! You dare lie to our faces when we are your only hope of salvation? I think it's time I taught you what the true meaning of pain-"

Rrrrrrrrkkkkkkkkk. The screeching sound of metal and electricity caused everyone to flinch and cover their ears (or attempt to in Clint, Natasha, and Peter's case) as Bucky finally tore free, Peter having bought him all the time he needed. The agents shouted and lifted their guns, but Bucky was too fast for them. Clint watched eagerly as Bucky plowed through their ranks, choking and concussing agents with his metal arm as he shot them down with his regular. It was a gloriously bloody sight. With the small opening that he had, Bucky freed Peter, chunks of the wall hitting them as they ripped the restraints out of their very secure foundations.

More agents flooded into the room, all aiming for Bucky. As he dealt with them, Peter ran over to Tasha, stumbling and covering his ears all the while, and had her guide him through how to open the shackles. Clint flinched as a stray bullet lodged itself into the wall, mere inches from his ear, but soon Natasha was furiously working on his shackles as Peter ducked behind Bucky, too weak from the power dampeners to help him fight.

All the blood came rushing back into Clint's arms, the pins and needles feeling magnified by how long they'd been tied up above him. Still, they didn't have time to wait for any of them to rest or catch their breath. More agents kept coming and Peter was all but down for the count.

Natasha snatched up one of the fallen agent's guns and helped Bucky drive the others back, Peter still ducked behind them. Clint grabbed the sunglasses off another one of the fallen agent's face and shoved them on Peter's face in case HYDRA thought of turning up the brightness again to take down Peter and Bucky. He couldn't do anything to help Peter block out the gunfire, but at least now that he was out of the power dampeners, his speed healing would kick in.

"I'll clear a path for you three. Find our stuff and get Peter out of here," Bucky ordered as the ebb of agents slowed. Clearly, they were rethinking their strategy of fighting the Winter Soldier face to face.

"Meet you up top," Tasha said, grabbing Peter's arm and pushing a gun into his hands. Peter looked at it as if it were a bomb that was about to self-destruction. "Safety's already off. Just point and shoot, like I taught you."

"When did you teach him that?" Clint asked incredulously. Peter didn't even react to what they were saying, just kept staring at the gun.

She shrugged, then winced at the pain that simple motion caused. "Stark went away on that trip with Pepper a few weeks ago. I talked Peter into a quick lesson then."

"Just stay behind me," Bucky warned as he leapt over the gruesome pile of dead bodies and started firing at agents waiting for them in the hall, blood splattering all over the walls and floor.

"Jesus Christ," Clint whispered, appalled at the bloody scene that Bucky was in the center of. This was why he'd chosen to be a sniper all those years ago. You never saw your target's expression as they died when you were pulling a trigger three blocks away. Natasha was unfazed, having done the same thing as Bucky plenty of times before. Hell, they'd probably already lived out this exact scenario together in their Red Room days.

"Close your eyes, kid," Clint warned Peter as the three of them followed Bucky out of their holding room. "He doesn't want you to see this side of him."

Bucky actually spared a second to look at Clint gratefully before forging ahead. Bucky and Natasha had been the most opposed of all the Avengers to having a child superhero because of their own experience and tried to shelter Peter as much as possible. Besides, Bucky didn't like anyone seeing this side of him, and who could blame him? There was very little nobility or glory in the business of saving lives, something the public failed to comprehend.

Their escape was honestly somewhat pathetic. Bucky led most of the agents away from them and stormed the command center of the base as Natasha split off to find their suits and weapons, which left the archer and the spider to try not to die as they made their way to the surface. Clint picked off the few agents they ran into with precision, always warning Peter to look away or close his eyes before hand. They had to stop every now and then for one or both of them to vomit or wait out dizzy spells, leading them both to believe they'd either gotten concussions or been mildly drugged while they were locked up. Clint nearly laughed as he pictured those goddamn smug news reporters faces if they saw what being an Avenger was really like, but he caught himself before his demented laugh freaked Peter Parker out more than he already was.

Finally, after nearly an hour of creeping around, they found the door. Peter let out a choked sob before helping Clint unlock the Stark tech latch. They couldn't really see for the first few minutes as the bright sunlight blinded them, but the warm breeze and crunch of rubble and cement under their bare feet reassured them that they were really outside. Once they could see, they both just sat down on the curb in front of the base, waiting for Natasha and Bucky to make their way outside.

Most of Peter's bruises and cuts had healed, but dried blood stuck to his sweat-soaked body. Clint was sure he looked like hell too, but he'd been through much worse. This was just like a slightly worse than average S.H.I.E.L.D. op for him, the worst being guarding the Tesseract and subsequently getting mind-controlled by Thor's angsty brother. And it was the fact Peter hadn't said anything, not even his typical sarcastic quips, since they'd gotten out of their shackles that scared Clint more than Peter's remaining injuries.

A full half hour after they'd gotten out, Bucky and Natasha came running out, bloody and out of breath but nothing a few days of rest and bandages couldn't fix. Clint had eagerly donned his regular clothes and slung his bow and quiver on his back as Peter numbly climbed into his suit. Apparently his A.I. had called the others and they were nearly at their location. Natasha had left to go grab their Quinjet and Bucky was talking to Steve using Peter's mask, their only piece of equipment not on the Quinjet that could reach their teammates as HYDRA had crushed Bucky, Natasha, and Clint's comms, leaving Clint and Peter alone again.

"You still haven't asked me how I hurt my leg."

Clint nearly jumped out of his skin Peter Parker's voice startled him so much. On reflex, Clint checked Peter's leg and once he verified that it seemed intact, looked back up at Peter.

"What are you talking about, kid? Is there something wrong with your leg?" Clint asked, worried.

There was a hollowness in Peter's expression, emphasized by the dark rings under his eyes and blood on his lip, one that he hadn't seen since that night he'd "babysat." The night that Peter had tried to hide his broken leg from Clint.

"You're not talking about right now, are you?" Clint asked quietly as Peter hadn't answered his last question.

"No, I'm not. I checked F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s database, you know. She doesn't even have audio or video of that night. You didn't just keep it from Tony, you made sure he'd never be able to find out. But you still never asked me what happened to my leg," Peter said. His bloodshot brown eyes rested on Clint's face, his brow furrowing as if he were trying to find the answer he was looking for tattooed across Clint's forehead.

"Like I said, if it mattered, I trust you'd tell me. Or maybe not even me. If you want to talk about what happened that night, you'd talk to someone. Stark hasn't passed along all of his self-sacrificing tendencies to you yet."

Clint wasn't sure if it was appropriate to joke or not at the moment, but he couldn't help it. It was how he diffused tense situations, and this definitely qualified. Bucky was at least pretending that he wasn't eavesdropping on every word and relaying them back to Steve, so that was nice.

Seeing that Peter had gone silent again, Clint decided to fish for answers of his own. "You know, I kind of assumed you didn't want to talk about your leg because it reminded you of how scared those girls you saved were, but then I dug into you a little. Saving girls from sex traffickers is like a nightly occurrence for you, if the newspapers have it right. Sure, it still sucks, and it's hard to see, but that can't be the reason you were so upset. So what did happen that night, Peter? What happened to your leg?"

At first, Clint was sure he had made a colossal mistake. After all, Peter was hardly in a sane state of mind at the moment and asking him to relive traumatic moment couldn't be healthy, but Clint's instincts were pretty good and he felt like Peter needed to get this off his chest for whatever reason. What that night had to do with their current situation, he had no idea.

"I don't know if Tony told you, but I had a pretty bad run in with a supervillain called the Vulture a while ago." Tony most certainly had. He'd also mentioned that the Vulture was Peter's ex-girlfriend's father. Talk about a small world. "I got him arrested after a big fight that ended with nearly burning Coney Island down, but what I never told anyone was what happened before that. I had followed Vulture to this abandoned warehouse. I didn't know why he was there, and I didn't care. All I wanted to do was catch him. Stop him before he could hurt anyone else and get Tony's respect at the same time. It never even occurred to me that I was walking straight into a trap.

"I was so arrogant. I didn't even notice that his mechanical wings weren't on him, so when they came flying at me, I was too busy beating myself up to notice that he'd broken all the pillars holding the roof up. My spider-sense went crazier than it ever had before and before I could move, the entire warehouse came down on top of me."

If Peter heard the sharp intake of Clint's breath over his own, he didn't let it show. The spider curled his hands in on themselves hard enough that he could feel his nails digging into his palms through his suit.

"I was so arrogant," Peter repeated miserably, tilting his head so that his curls would hide the tears gathering in his eyes from Clint. "I thought that I was ready after fighting you guys in Germany. The Vulture couldn't be worse than fighting Captain America or the Winter Soldier. I didn't realize until five tons of cement and steel pinned me down that any one of you could have killed me so easily. An arrow while I was distracted, a metal fist to my temple, a flash of red magic and I'd be six feet under."

Bucky's metal fist clenched at Peter's ramblings. Clearly he didn't appreciate that thought either. It was true, though. Peter had been a newbie in Germany. Sure, nowadays he could hold his own in fight against the strongest Avengers and beat the less superpowered ones like Clint and Sam, but in Germany, Peter was lucky to walk away with just a black eye.

"I got out, but I'm terrified of being trapped again. Not like claustrophobia, but really being unable to escape. That night when I was saving those girls, I got locked in this shipping container. I was so freaked out that forgot that I'm strong enough to break through those with one hand and I was so distracted for the rest of that fight that a guy took a crowbar to my leg almost without me noticing."

Clint winced. Cleithrophobia, the fear of being trapped, had been common in S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, particularly the spies. It had screwed up more missions than Clint could count, including quite a few of his, though he himself had never had it. Natasha had had it bad when she'd first come to S.H.I.E.L.D., but Coulson and Fury had helped her get control over her fear.

"Did that happen again during this mission?" Clint asked, his voice somewhat choked up.

Peter wrapped his arms around himself in a painful looking hug. "When I broke into the base to go help Bucky, I got blasted by this weird gun they had. Shot me back through at least ten walls and when I finally landed, the ceiling came down on me. It wasn't that heavy and I wasn't really injured, but I panicked. It reminded me so much of being in that goddamn warehouse. I could have sworn that I heard the Vulture talking to me even though I know he's locked up in some high security prison. If I could have just calmed down, HYDRA wouldn't of caught me and I could have rescued-"

"Stop. We don't deal with what ifs. We don't have time for that shit," Clint said sternly as Peter discreetly wiped away tears, not facing the archer. "And you're not giving yourself enough credit. You lied your ass off to HYDRA, buying us time and protecting our assets. That takes some balls, kid."

"All thanks to your excellent teaching," Peter quipped, his voice weak but faintly amused.

Clint's legs wobbled in relief at hearing Peter's attempt at humor. There was their little spider. "Of course. But you know what I'm really proud of?"

"What?" Peter asked, relaxing his death on his arms.

"You telling me the truth. Lying's easy once you learn how. It's telling the truth that's hard."

Peter tried to smile, but couldn't quite manage that. He settled for saying, "Thanks, Clint."

Clint ruffled his curls, ignoring Peter's protests and the light slaps on his arm. Those little brown curls were too adorable to resist. "No problem, Spider-Man. You ready to go home?"

"God, yes," Peter said, louder than he'd been since the interrogation.

"Good, because our ride's here."

The Quinjet came zooming over to them, Natasha's red hair visible through the window of the cockpit. Right on her tail was a second Quinjet and two sets of flying armor flanking it, one red and gold, the other silver. Tony and Rhodey along with the rest of the team.

Peter covered his ears as the Quinjets and superheroes landed, Clint shielding his eyes from the glare off the metal and glass. Bucky handed back Peter's mask and went to greet Steve.

"PETER!" Tony shouted, stepping out of his armor the second it landed. Peter let out a wild cry that could have either been joy or sadness and launched himself into Tony's open arms. The billionaire shuddered as he clutched his ward tightly, as if he'd disappear if he let go. Steve, Bucky, Sam, and Rhodey went back into the base to scavenge for clues and check for survivors. Clint just stayed sitting on that curb, watching Peter and Tony's bittersweet reunion.

"Penny for your thoughts."

Clint snorted as the redhead settled down next to him, dressed in one of Steve's stolen sweaters over her customary black catsuit. Only she could manage to sneak up on him and have the nerve to dress comfortably as if they weren't still on a mission.

"I think I get why Stark is so insane about Peter Parker. That's one special kid."

Natasha bumped into his shoulder playfully. "I could have told you that."

Despite his exhaustion and the dried blood coating his skin like a layer of clothes and the fact that he was still sitting in front of a HYDRA base where they'd been captured and tortured, Clint smiled. "Maybe I needed to see it for myself."

Hey, guys! Quick note: this could be considered a prequel to one of my other stories, The Lessons That Save Lives, but you don't need to read this story to understand that one. That being said, if you liked this story, go check out The Lessons That Save Lives. They're very similar, the true difference being that this was about Clint and Peter and the other is about Natasha and Peter, which led to a much darker tone overall.

Clint Barton in this story is based on the mess of a human being he is in the comics since we really don't see Clint all that much in the MCU. Please comment if you noticed any of my little comic nods or give me some feedback about what you thought about how I wrote their relationship.

-Beauty In Her Darkness