The White Dress ✅

The Hawk's Spider Part 3

Day 3: Write a scene where your favourite song is playing in the background.

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It's home.

The house is a small two bedroom, probably council owned before the landlord bought it and started renting it out, and it's pretty plain looking, drab carpets and neutral walls but it's theirs and, after a full day of moving in, it's looking pretty fine. The two of them don't have many belongings and, certainly, they can't afford much luxury but there's a fluffy dog plush in the middle of the living room, positioned just before a flat pack table where Pete's playing on the laptop.

Clint's cooking, something he'd never had done before Pete, and he's making sure to include the vegetables, disguising them cleverly so that he can persuade the boy to eat. It's quite domestic, he thinks, that he's cooking and Pete's playing and it's surprising how much he enjoys this, even if he does miss the old thrills of his previous life.

"Pete, dinner in five."

He gets a noncommittal 'mm' for his trouble.

"I want the table set then, okay?"

"Okay." The boy comes into the kitchen, peering into a box they haven't yet unpacked to find the cutlery, picking out two forks and grabbing two napkins, too.

They've got a routine and it's familiar to sit down and eat.

"Did you hear about the news?" Pete asks, because he's the tech savvy one out of the two.

"Surprise me."

"They're bringing a fleet of Chinese pandas over to America as part of a breeding program. I thought it was cute, don't you love pandas, too?"

His eyes flick to the screen, making out the black and white fur and smiling a little. "They're very cute, do you think it'll work?"

"I don't know, the comments are all different but I hope they do. We should go to America one day, visit them and see if any of them act like Po, the kung fu panda!"

Clint laughs because, for all he doesn't act like it, Pete's still a kid and he has his moments where he manages to brighten the whole room. He finds it adorable, it's a dynamic he's still getting used to, but he loves it.

"Can I have the laptop for a moment?"

Pete gives it to him, careful not to get the trailing cables into the pasta sauce, and Clint scrolls through the newest stories, skimming most of them: football's campaign to stamp out racism, the typical IRA threats, the newest celebrity break ups. There's nothing important, not overly, but he's always looking out for mentions of his previous employers or the villains who blame him for their downfall but, most importantly, his kid's parents.

Even now, he doesn't quite know why they were killed, his search having revealed nothing, but it's serious since big guns were sent after him when he left and he was only a lowly sniper, nothing that warranted that much concern. No, he wants to know why Pete has above average strength, why he can climb walls without help, why he's some sort of mutation. He's careful, searching through a proxy since he has no doubt someone monitors the phrases 'genetic mutation' and 'Richard Parker' who worked for the CIA before he was killed but he's dismayed once more when nothing comes up.

"It's too quiet." Pete interjects, reminding him he's there. "If you're reading, can you put some music on?"

"You're right." he smiles because dinner time is family time and that always means noise.

He goes onto Youtube, clicking on the first video he sees which starts with a catchy pop tune which Pete grins at when he hears it.

"Do you know the band?"

"No." he admits. "But they sound good."

"I bet you'd sound better."

He lights up at that but he's eight now and he's started insisting that he be treated like an adult so he doesn't whirl around the living room and make a one man show of himself, much to Clint's amusement. Instead, he's elbows deep in bubbles and warm water as he washes up all of one saucepan, two plates and two forks. And, hey, if it makes the kid feel good, Clint's all up for it.

He tidies up after him, wiping them dry and moving the stool out of the way so he won't trip over it if he gets up for water and, after ensuring that Pete's brushed his teeth, he tucks him into bed. It's a roll mat, really, with a few blankets and the dog but it's the easiest for moving around and they stick to it. Clint sleeps on the same and somehow, the boy has it in his head that that's how all grown ups live. He should tell him sometime, really, he should but this is their messed up family and they do things their way.

The last thing to shut down is the laptop and, when his fingers hover over the keyboard, he can hear the tinny voice of the band's vocalist singing and he finally listens to the lyrics, finally hears them even though it's been on repeat all night long.

Ima go 'cause I got no problem with saying goodbye

Is it wrong that I'm gonna be having the time of my life?

'Cause deep down I know I should cry, I should scream

And get down on my knees, I should say that I need you here.