15

[monkiainen]

THIS ROUND IS NOW CLOSED TO NEW PROMPTS.

ROUND SIXTEEN WILL OPEN ON TUESDAY THE 25TH.

ROUND FIFTEEN
closing at 5000 comments
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ASK-A-MOD

DISCUSSION POST

PROMPT FORMATTING:
Alphabetize pairings. They will be archived that way!
LIST OF REQUIRED WARNINGS: ableism, abuse, bestiality, bullying,

Comments

Fill: Escalation (5b/7)

[anonymous]

He looked up and gave them both a nod in greeting. Natasha didn't interrupt him though, turning to Peter and asking about school. While Peter searched for something interesting enough to tell a superhero about his day at school, his eyes glanced over Clint in time to see him narrow his eyes at the two of them. He was darkly happy to see him lose track of his conversation with the Captain and have to ask him to repeat himself with a familiar sheepish expression.

He wasn't entirely sure how he went from casual conversation to, minutes later, confessing to his new-found Aunt all about the school-bus behaviour, even if it had been right on the tip of his tongue for months now.

"Aw, sweetie, did you really think you were getting away with that?" Natasha somehow managed to look amused and pitying at the same time. "Clint doesn't miss much," she added, leaning into his space as if sharing a secret.

Peter thought he might be having palpitations, his heart rate suddenly a mile a minute. "But he can't hear..." he started, glancing at his dads sat talking with Captain America. "I mean, he never wears his hearing aids. I never even knew he had them until today."

Natasha was shaking her head. "Clint's spent as many years as you've been alive convincing people who wanted him dead that he could hear just fine. He lip-reads professionally, and he reads body language just as easily. He knew what was going on."

Peter risked another glance across the room at Clint and found him watching the two of them, a wry grin on his face. When he noticed Peter looking he shrugged apologetically.

"Shit," he muttered.

Peter knew the signs that Clint shot his way meant something along the lines of 'stop swearing', but he wasn't sure exactly how it translated. Phil looked over his shoulder at them and Natasha put both hands up in surrender at his narrow-eyed glare, then pointed at Peter.

"Tattle-tail," Peter grumbled, turning in his seat so that he was facing only Natasha, hiding his lips from Clint.

"So..." Natasha continued, as if nothing else had happened. "Is that why you told your teacher that they wouldn't be able to make the parent-teacher conference?"

Peter withered. "How do you know that!?"

"Natasha, stop. This isn't the time or the place." Clint's hand settled on his shoulder and squeezed reassuringly. With a sharp gut-clench, Peter realised Natasha had been facing Clint, and now he knew what Peter had done.

It was irrational for him to have more of a reaction to this than the day's misadventure, but Peter suddenly felt desperately like he wanted his bed to hide in. To not be sat in front of all these people he didn't know, all Phil and Clint's friends, and be faced with fact that he'd been embarrassed by these two people who had taken him in and kept him.