Clint Barton
“Hey Mr. Barton…Mr. Stark said you wanted to talk?”
“Yeah, kid. Hey, it’s nothing bad. Promise.”
Peter carefully sits on the archer’s bed, watching him from his desk.
“I saw your binder torn up. You’re bad at hiding.”
Well that was blunt.
“ And it was bloody. Did you get stabbed, kid?”
“Maybe.” Peter squeaks.
“Are you okay?”
“Mhm…” Peter nods softly, looking away from Clint. “Don’tbemadatme.”
“Mad? No. Concerned? Yes. Seriously are you okay, kid?”
“I stitched myself up. Amd why do you keep calling me ‘kid’?”
“I didn’t think you wanted to be called ‘Penny’.”
“Well…you’re right. I…I don’t…it’s not like I don’t like the name…it’s just that…th-that…”
“That it’s not yours …am I right?” Peter nods. “I know the feeling. Got a name you want me to call you? Pronouns too?”
“P-Peter. And uh…he/him? Please?”
“Of course, Pete.” Clint mutters, stretching and standing up, removing his sweatshirt to reveal a black and purple binder.
Peter looks at it for what he thinks is a second too long. He knows Clint Barton is transgender, he’s known for a few years, when he came out, but sometimes things like this shock him.
“You know I’m always supportive of this. Hell, you know I’m trans myself. Nat…helped me through most of it. MJ and Ned seem to be like that for you, and that’s an amazing relationship to have, Peter.”
“Ms. Romanoff?”
“Yes. Natasha. She’s helped me through most of my transition. But, this isn’t about me. It’s about you. And I know your Aunt is a nurse but that does not mean you can suture yourself properly, Peter.”
“It hurt like a bitch but I did it.”
“Language.”
“Sorry.”
Clint laughs for a second before returning to his serious manner.
“Peter, be careful. I trust you took care of yourself. And I got rid of the old binder and I have a few more on order. I have an old binder you can borrow in the meantime, but be super careful when patrolling. We don’t need rib damage or lung damage.”
“I try to be careful.”
“I trust that. But come to me if you need anything, or just want to talk. I may understand all this better than the others.”
“Just maybe.” Peter teases with a soft smile. “I’m glad you accept me, Mr. Barton.”
“Call me Clint, Peter. And of course I do! It’d be pretty shitty of me not to, especially considering I’m a trans guy too.”
“Definitely. And, you don’t need to give me your old binder, I’ll be okay.“
“I insist. At least ‘till the new ones get here. You and I both know that not having one is hell. And you can keep up appearances in front of the others.”
“T-Thanks…Mr. Barton.”
“ Clint. ”
“You do the same thing Mr. Stark does when I call him ‘Mr. Stark’, you know that, right?”
“I do know that. Now it’s late, so are you staying at the tower or are you heading back home?”
“Heading back.”
“Be extremely careful getting home, don’t pop a stitch. If you do, call me. And no binding while swinging home. You’ve worn a binder all day. I’d give it to you tomorrow after school, but I know that you’d feel more comfortable with it. So take this and get home safe, Peter.”
Clint hands Peter a bag, which has a t-shirt and a hoodie inside, both belonging to him, as well as the binder.
“Thank you so much Mr. Bar-…Clint.”
“Of course Pete. Now get home safe and don’t let anyone catch ya.”
“I won’t. And I’m going out your window. Have a nice night Clint.”
“You too, Peter.”
And with that, Peter steps out the window and swings out onto the streets of NYC.
Clint just hopes the kid doesn’t get stabbed again on his way back home.