Hey, everybody! Hope you're all having a great weekend or had I guess for some people. Anyways. Here's the next chapter, hope you all enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own marvel.

Clint wasn't attached. Nope. He refused to say he was attached to that damn kid, not at all. Okay, so maybe he listened to a couple musicals that the kid liked (which included: Dear Evan Hansen, Hamilton, Be more chill, Waitress, and In The Heights) and maybe he stopped by this place call "Delmar's Deli" because the kid recommended it, but that did not mean he was attached to the kid. (According to Clint anyway.)

Despite what he said, he was still a little concerned when he walked into Tony's lab to see Peter banging his head on the table.

"Okay, first of all, what are you doing, besides giving yourself a concussion? Second of all, where is Tony exactly? It's not like him too just leave his interns unsupervised in his lab, no offense," Clint asked, slightly confused.

"Well, to answer your first question, Spanish homework. To answer your second question, Mr. Stark has a meeting that's going late and Ms. Potts is making him stay, but he said since I was already here that I could just do my homework in here as long as I didn't touch anything," Peter said laying his head atop of the table.

"Okay, If you don't mind me asking, why don't you go home? Not that Tony or I mind you hanging around here in until he gets back, but wouldn't it make more sense to go home and come back later once he's here?" Clint asked.

"Ehh, Mr. Stark said he would be back in an hour and it's a thirty minute walk back to my apartment so I'd just have to turn around the moment I got back," Peter explained, looking back down at his Spanish homework.

"I can help you with you Spanish if you want," Clint said with a shrug. What? It's not like he wanted to spend time with the kid or anything, it just-he just-he just didn't have anything better to do? Yeah, that was totally it! Totally…

"Really? You know Spanish?" Peter asked.

"Yeah, kid, I'm a spy. Gotta know at least a couple of languages to be one and Spanish is one of them," Clint responded with a snort.

"Are you sure you want to? I know you probably have better things to do," Peter said, slightly hesitant.

"I literally have nothing else to do. Steve and Natasha are only here on the weekends and even then sometimes they don't come back here, Bruce is lord knows where and so is Thor, and Wanda, Sam, and Rhodes stay at the compound for training. Also it's nice to hang out with someone who doesn't make me want to smash my hearing aids just to avoid a headache from a conversation with them," Clint said, trying to make the teen understand that it wasn't a bother.

"If you're sure."

"Positive."

"Okay then," Peter said with a nod, as Clint pulled a chair up to the table the teen was working at.

"How about I say a sentence and then you have to translate it?" Clint asked looking down at Peter's homework.

"Sounds like a plan," Peter said running a hand through his hair.

"¿Cómo se dice…?" Clint asked.

"How do you say," Peter said confidently.

"Yep! How about, ¿Puede tomar el agua?"

"Can I have some water?"

"That's right!" Clint said giving the kid a small grin.

And so for the rest of the evening the two worked on Peter's Spanish. They eventually moved on from Peter translating stuff to Clint teaching Peter to pronounce things, claiming, "If you're able to pronounce it it's easier to remember it and it's just over all important." They just did this and that until Peter was practically asleep and drooling on his homework.

"Okay, let's get you home," Clint said with a chuckle, looking down at his watch and realizing they had been working for the last three hours and it was now eight o'clock. God, where the hell was Tony?

"Okay," Peter managed to grumble as he stood up and started collecting his things, a job Clint soon took over after Peter accidentally dropped his Spanish book on his foot then proceeded to hit his head on the table after he bent down to pick it up.

"Come on kid, let's get you home," Clint said as he picked up Peter's, now full, backpack and swung it over his shoulder.

"I can walk myself, Mr. Barton," Peter said, slightly red in the face at the fact that an Avenger was offering to walk him home.

"Not a chance, kiddo," Clint replied, with a shake of his head. "I'm not letting a fourteen year old boy walk thirty minutes home in the dark in New York City."

"At least let me carry my backpack," Peter argued.

"Kid, if I let you carry this your going to tip over," Clint stated.

"Fine, you win, sir."

Lalalala-Still don't know how to use a motherfucking line break on the site-lalalala

After a thirty minute walk in New York's chilly winter weather, Clint had made the decision that he was never letting this kid walk home alone. Ever. Because if Clint was tired after walking for that long and was this cold the kid had to be exhausted and freezing.

"Thanks for taking me home," Peter said with a smile on his face, effectively snapping Clint out of his thoughts.

"No problem, kiddo," Clint said with a grin as he ruffled the kid's hair. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yep!" The kid said as he opened the door to his apartment building. "I'll see you then!"

"See you then."

Lalalala-i hate this fuckin site-lalalala

As Clint got into the elevator at the tower he couldn't help but feel a little sick. He actually had a pretty good time helping Peter out with his Spanish, he wasn't lying when he said that he had nothing else to do, but he couldn't help but enjoy himself. He wasn't going to lie, he liked the kid, he was an adorable, smart, innocent, little sweetheart, but one of the things that made him amazing was one of the things that made Clint's heart twist painfully with fear: innocence. He had only known the kid for about two weeks but even then he could tell that he always looked for the good in people and in the world, and if Clint was being honest he was terrified that if he got close to him that he was going to take that away from him. He cared about the kid. And that's why he couldn't get close.

But almost nothing ever goes the way he planned. And he would only ever admit this to himself, but he hoped that this was one of them.