Jumper

As soon as Peter turned the corner, he bolted, mind pinwheeling between thoughts in a veritable frenzy.

What did I just do?! He thought a bit hysterically, resisting the urge to smack his hands over his face in a sad attempt at hiding from his actions. Because he knew exactly what he did. He’d spat out that he knew Hawkeye’s name, which, obviously, meant he knew who Hawkeye was, period. 

His heart was in his throat and he could feel it jackhammering in his ears, making his limbs jittery as he speed walked down the sidewalk, ignoring the odd looks he got with his robotic-like arm movements and the way he careened around the next turn away from the park.

He barely withheld the desire to glance over his shoulder to make sure he wasn’t being followed; he knew he wasn’t: he couldn’t hear Clint’s steady heartbeat or near silent footsteps coming after him. Yet. 

Peter swerved into the first alley he found, relieved to note it wasn’t a dead end, and set to work maneuvering through the back alleys in the general direction of his area of Queens. 

His heartbeat resumed a more acceptable pace and resettled into its proper position in his chest, and he breathed out a terse breath, shaking out his arms. 

He honestly felt a bit like he was overreacting - most likely because he probably was - but he still couldn’t quite get himself to slow his pace as he took swift turns and meandering paths towards home.

Sure, he’d ousted that he knew who Clint was, but it’s not like that meant all that much in the whole scheme of things. He’d read a veritable landfill’s worth of files from the data dump a couple of years back, and it’d listed all the Avenger’s identities - not that most of them were kept secret at that point. Still, he’d made sure to memorize all their names, and, once he’d put two and two together, he couldn’t exactly forget the four he came up with. 

He just kind of wished he’d kept it to himself.

His ears flushed bright red at the memory of the hero’s eyebrows shooting up to his hairline when Peter blurted out his name before racing around the bend. 

He wouldn’t be living that memory down anytime soon, that was for sure.

At the thought, Peter winced, his phone burning a whole through where it was buried in his pocket.

He’d call to check in with the hero tomorrow, partly because he didn’t want to break the promise he made and partly because he very much so did not want Clint to dig into any stuff to try to figure out who Peter was to find him.

-

Clint stared at the gates of the park for a minute, gobsmacked, before he managed to close his mouth with a click of his teeth and settle his shoulders back down like ruffled feathers. 

He had admittedly not realized that he’d somehow managed to oust his identity, but, after a moment, he could admit that he wasn't entirely surprised. Sure, he didn't make a habit of connecting his public persona with his civilian self, but it wasn't like he wore a mask or anything, and he realized that he probably mentioned Cap when he was talking with the kid earlier. After the whole data dump they did online a few years back, he wasn't entirely shocked that someone remembered his real name to match his hero one, either; it’d happened a few times before.

Still, he felt a bit miffed at himself for having let it slip so easily, especially considering he doesn’t even know the kid’s name in return. Remembering that thought nearly made him groan out loud, which he still might’ve done had his phone not vibrated menacingly in his pocket at that exact moment, freezing him in place. His soul gave a foreboding shiver of impending doom, which gave him an entire moment’s pause before he shrugged his shoulders airily. 

Well, hopefully he’d survive to get the kid’s call tomorrow, and, if he doesn’t get a call - and if Nat does not, in fact, have plans for his imminent demise - maybe he could enlist her help in finding the teen. 

He gave a decisive nod to nobody in particular and turned heel towards the entrance of the park, strolling leisurely in its direction and resolutely not checking his phone. He was going to put off that interaction for as blessedly long as he could. Seeing as to who it was on the other end, he surmised that he didn’t have long at all.