Chapter Text
Peter’s first word was ‘Clint’. The silence of his new apartment made him remember. Most memories of his childhood were locked away by his Uncle, Peter hadn’t thought about his parents for so long, but there, in the back of his mind, were fuzzy images of his Father, saying how ‘Agent Iowa’ was just as much as his brother as Ben was, and that he ‘loved them both equally’. Peter remembered how much he adored him, how much both of his parents adored his Uncle Clint and Auntie Lala, and how much his Uncle Ben hated it. He blamed Clint for his parents’ deaths, he should’ve been on the work outing that killed them, on the plane that crashed, so he banned his name from their home.
Peter’s parents were dead, Uncle Ben was dead, Mister Stark was dead, Aunt May was dead, Happy, Pepper and Morgan had forgotten that he was their family, MJ had forgotten he was her lover, Ned had forgotten he was his friend, but what if, by some miracle, Clint hadn’t forgotten Peter was his nephew?
…
‘With great power comes great responsibility’ was the Parker family motto. Joining the military or police force was their tradition, it was their purpose to serve their community, but Richard ‘Ricky’ Parker wasn’t interested. Every day, he’d race to the local garage, and help with the cars. He could only see a future where he was a mechanic. He lived and breathed engineering. Cadets, karate, and Sunday school were chores. Just because his brother wanted to follow in the footsteps of their father, didn’t mean Ricky had to. He was going to make his own path in life. He was going to protect people in a different way. His own way.
Mary Fitzpatrick was born in the Bronx with a strong Irish accent and curly hazelnut hair. It took her Dad being shot by a police officer when she was five, both her Uncles being in jail by the time she was eight, and her Aunt dying of homicide for her Mom to enlist her in every martial art possible. Mary became an incredible fighter, so good that folks on the street paid her to beat the shit out of other folks for fun, but her real passion came from learning languages.
By the age of ten, she could confidently speak English, Irish Gaelic, French, and Italian, and by fifteen, German, Spanish, Russian, and Mandarin were added to the list. It was spelling that let her down the most, but Mary picked the literary skills eventually, reading the majority of her books in a foreign language and practising online using her library’s computers. She knew her Mom didn’t have enough money to send her to University, but Mary dreamed of earning a degree and travelling the world as a translator for the people who made laws and whose actions mattered.
Then, at seventeen, she participated in the cage fight that changed her life. In a matter of seconds, Mary was scouted by none other than Nick Fury himself, who paid for her to go to Empire State University in return for working at SHIELD. That was where she met Ricky, the ambitious and dedicated inventor with a goofy, energetic side. Ricky showed her the joys of dancing in the rain, introduced her to the most ridiculous TV shows, and taught her how to ride a bike, change the wheels of a car, and make oddly shaped muffins. For the first time in her life, Mary fell in love. A drunken kiss later and she had her first boyfriend. A month later and Ricky saved her from some ‘Bad Guys TM’ and she knew the man would become her husband.
Ricky never planned on joining SHIELD, in fact, he didn’t even know about the organisation before Mary, but when said woman dragged him to the Director’s office, he didn’t have a choice. Ricky wanted to work behind the scenes, fixing their vehicles and decrypting messages. Fury had other plans. Given a handler, who specialised in bōjutsu, Ricky was thrown into the field. Using his staff to destroy anything and anyone in his path, it was his job to hack into enemy systems, taking down their cameras and downloading their files, whilst Mary caused a distraction. They made a good team, a great team, but something was missing, and that ‘something’ was a ‘someone’ named Clinton Francois Barton.
…
Uncle Ben never told Peter what his parents did for work. All he remembered was that their boss dressed in black. His Dad called Clint ‘Agent Iowa’, but that didn’t confirm they were agents. It did, however, tell Peter he was from Iowa, and that was better than nothing.
A quick google search for ‘Richard and Mary Parker’ only came up with the location of their grave. The fact their government documents were heavily encrypted said more than what was written on them. Their ‘legal jobs’ were fake. Covers. Maybe they were agents, after all.
Clint had a farm in Iowa - Peter remembered. It was a safe house given to him by the man in black. A cat used to sit on top of their tracker. Her name was…
Peter buried his head in his hands and begged his mind to remember.
…
A masked figure pierced of the throats of six men with six arrows, and how did Ricky ‘Staff Master’ Parker break his cover? By blurting ‘Fuck - I need you on my team!’ The assassin was insane - Ricky had never seen someone hit multiple targets in seconds without losing some ammo along the way - of course Ricky wanted them on his team! Unfortunately, the masked figure wasn’t as enthusiastic, and fled the scene. Fortunately, Ricky always caught up with chasers. The masked figure didn’t have a chance. That night, Ricky convinced old Philsy to take up another asset, and a day later, Hawkeye was born.
They became a team - Ricky (aka Agent Queens), and his best friend, Clint (aka Agent Iowa), alongside Mary (aka Agent Bronx), and her best friend, Maria (aka Agent Illinois). Fury called them ‘The Alpha Quartet’ and they travelled the world, storming into enemy territory and kicking ass. No other team did it like them. They were celebrities back at home. Their colleagues cheered their names. Ricky and Mary were promoted to Level Eight, and Ricky dreamed of the day he’d take over as Director. Everything was going so well. He never could’ve known what would happen next.
…
If his parents were SHIELD agents, it explained the man in black, but the only SHIELD agent Peter knew with the name ‘Clint’ was Hawkeye. That couldn’t be right, could it? Hawkeye wasn’t his Uncle - Peter would’ve remembered if he was! He was from Iowa, though, so… so it was him. All this time, his Dad’s best friend had been an Avenger. (If his parents were still alive, would they have been Avengers, too?) Peter realised his access to Stark Industries hadn’t been erased and used it to find Hawkeye’s address. A farmhouse in Iowa.
’Fuck.’
His Uncle was Hawkeye, wasn’t he?
…
It was too late to go back. Peter couldn’t un-steal the helicopter, not when he’d electrocuted the guards with his electra-webs and crashed it into the trees of a state one thousand miles away ; all he needed to do was walk up the Barton’s drive and knock on the door. All that was left to do was say ‘hello’.
What if Clint didn’t remember him? Even worse - what if Ben had scared him off and he wanted nothing to do with Peter? There had to be a reason why Clint never looked for him. He was supposed to be his Dad’s best friend. His brother. Why hadn’t he reached out to his son? His nephew?
Peter stood at the door. His phone supplied the time as ‘9:16pm’. The Bartons must have eaten by now, but surely they were still awake. Someone had to answer if he knocked. Peter’s fist shook. He couldn’t bring his hand to the door. He couldn’t take the rejection. Not again. He’d already lost too many people. Peter only wanted for someone to see him, remember him ; love him. He missed being hugged and talking to people out of spidey’s patrols. Peter wanted his family back, but they were gone. He had no one left but the Bartons. There was no one left to call out to but the man on the other side of the door.
Peter knocked once ; then waited. Nothing. He knocked, again. Lights switched on, curtains moved ; footsteps. A figure opened the door - a woman - it was—
“Auntie Lala?” Peter breathed, unable to stop himself. She hadn’t changed. Images flooded his mind, and god - she hadn’t changed. Laura Barton stared back at him, her face unreadable, and Peter broke out of his memories and into a panic. She didn’t recognise him, did she? Doctor Strange had taken her away, too. “I-I’m sorry, I-I don’t— I think I’ve got the-the wrong number, I’ll go—“
“Peter?” She whispered.
“Yes.” Peter smiled, relief washing over him. She remembered. She said his name. She remembered! “Yes, that’s right, that’s me, Peter Parker.” He told her, sheepishly. “I’m sorry for turning up like this, but I-I didn’t know where else to go.” His voice broke. Tears threatened to leave his eyes. God - why hadn’t he planned his speech on the way? What was he doing? Crying on the doorstep of Hawkeye’s house… Was this what his life had come to?
“You used to always call me Auntie Lala.” She murmured. “It’s been so long…”
“I know.” Peter sighed, pulling his hands through his hair. “It feels like a lifetime ago.”
“What’s going o—“ Clint popped up behind his wife in the corridor, but stopped himself when Peter appeared in view. Colour drained from his face and his limbs shook. “Please tell me Ricky’s ghost isn’t standing at our door.” He begged. His voice was so quiet that Peter wouldn’t have heard it without his enhanced hearing.
“It’s Peter, honey.” Laura replied, turning her back towards Peter to face her husband. “He called me Auntie Lala.”
Clint’s eyes widened and he reached out for Laura’s hand, squeezing it tightly. “Monkey, you’re here? How did you find us? Wha-what about your Uncle Ben?” He asked.
Peter stepped back. Clint didn’t want him, did he? He should’ve never turned up without saying something. He should’ve called first. “Died in the battle of New York.” Peter answered, throat dry. His Uncle died when he was ten years old. It was Parker Luck. Everyone Peter loved ended up leaving him. It wasn’t fair.
“And what about your Aunt May?”
Peter sobbed. He couldn’t hold the tears back anymore. Most nights, he cradled his Aunt’s still body in his arms and begged for her to return to him. Peter couldn’t forget his grief without being beaten the shit out of on a patrol and passing out from the exhaustion. His apartment was so lonely. His life was so lonely. It was all Peter’s fault. Aunt May was dead because of him. There was no one to blame but himself. Arms wrapped around him. It took a moment for Peter to realise they were Laura’s and buried his head in her right shoulder. “I’m sorry.” He cried. “I’m sorry.”
Peter didn’t know who he was apologising to. Was it to Laura for crying in her arms? Was it to Clint for turning up at his home uninvited that evening? Was it to his Aunt for causing her death and almost destroying their universe? If Mister Stark was still alive, he would be so disappointed in him. Peter sobbed harder.
“It’s okay sweetheart, you’re safe now, you’re okay.” Laura cooed. “I’ve got you.”
“Everyone I know either died because of me or forgot I existed.” Peter blurted. “I-I didn’t know what to do.”
“We never forgot you, Peter.” Laura murmured, her arms tightening around him. “Let’s get through this together, okay? You don’t have to do this on your own. We’re here, now. We love you. You’ll never have to be alone, again. I’m so sorry we didn’t come back for you.”
“She’s right, monkey.” Clint croaked, finally speaking up. “You came to the right place, you’ve got us now, and we’ll never leave you again.”
“Come on, sweetie, let’s get you inside. It’s cold out here, isn’t it?”
Peter hadn’t noticed. He had gotten worse at noticing when he was always so numb. Nothing mattered. He felt nothing and yet everything hurt. Peter managed to gulp and nodded.
The Bartons guided him to their living room and onto the couch. Clint sat down beside him and squeezed his hand as though he was checking whether Peter was real. The shock hadn’t left his face and his right leg was twitching. Peter hadn’t meant to scare him. He didn’t know how much he looked like his Father. “Is there anything you’d like to drink?” Laura asked. “We’ve got tea, water, milk, hot chocolate…”
“Hot chocolate, please.”
Laura smiled. “I’ll be right back.”
Clint’s eyes followed her as she left the room before softening as they reached Peter’s face. “How much do you remember?” He whispered.
“Huh?”
“A-about your-your parents? About me?”
Peter gulped. “I know they worked for SHIELD.” He told him. “I know you’re Hawkeye, but you used to be Agent Iowa, right?”
“That was your Dad’s codename for me.” Clint explained, still as quiet as he was at the door. Fear flashed across Clint’s eyes and he shuddered.
“I haven’t told anyone - I-I swear.” Peter tried to reassure him. “I’m-I’m not here to hurt your family, I’d never—“
“I know, monkey.” Clint interrupted. “You’re welcome here for as long as you want. I’m not mad at you. I could never be mad at you. This is your home, too. I’m not worried that you’ve been sent to spy on me - I’m just… surprised. I thought I’d never see you, again.”
The Rogues hadn’t known Peter’s true identity. Whilst Natasha had seen him without his mask, she was dead, and with the rest of the world unable to remember him, there would be no one to tell Clint that his nephew was Spiderman. This was the second chance Doctor Strange promised him. Peter could start again. “Why did you never reach out?” He asked. “I-I know Uncle Ben blamed you for the plane crash, but I didn’t. You’re my Uncle just as much as he was. You should’ve gone against his wishes and talked to me anyway.”
Sighing, Clint pulled his hand through his hair, and shook his head. “It wasn’t that simple, monkey. Besides, your Uncle Ben was right - it-it was my fault your parents died.” He squeezed shut his eyes and dropped his head.
“No.” Peter argued, refusing to believe it was Clint’s fault. “That’s not true.”
“Your Dad needed help and I gave up on him.” Clint’s voice broke and he dug his nails into his bare arms. “He-he had bipolar, ‘stopped taking his meds ; ‘developed a drinking problem. I was supposed to be in that plane, b-but we’d had an argument over it the week before, and I was refusing to answer his calls. I told him I couldn’t do it anymore - lo-look after him all the time. I told him it wasn’t fair on Mary and that he needed help. My biggest regret is not answering those damn calls. He’d always been there for me, but I didn’t return the favour. I-I let him down.”
Peter had never drank alcohol - one because Mister Stark told him it would have unknown effects on his abilities and two because the snap messed up his legal age. In that moment, he promised himself that he would never try it. He couldn’t end up like Mister Stark and his Dad. He wasn’t going to hurt his loved ones like they had.
“You didn’t let him down.” Peter replied, softly. “He loved you.”
“Yeah and he died hating me.” Clint spat. “He-he died not knowing how much he meant to me.”
“My first word was Clint.” Peter murmured.
Clint paused. His leg stopped twitching and a smile returned to his cheeks. “I remember… and when you first learned to walk, it was to get to me.” He chuckled, sadly. “You had cutesy nicknames for people - Maria was Auntie Ria and Fury was Uncle Nicky - but I was always ‘Clint’.”
“Because you were my favourite.” Peter told him. “Dad wouldn’t have wanted me to blame you. He would’ve wanted us to stay together as a family.”
“You’re a good, kid, Pete.” Clint smiled.
“Technically, I’m twenty three, but thanks.”
Peter was finally home.