don’t go (without me)
“Dad? We’re really just going to follow them? Captain freaking America just had me held against me my will, and we’re just going to go with them?”
Peter nearly forgets to breathe. The inhaler in his pocket reassures that he’d be okay.
Clint ruffles the teen’s hair, “Pete, the moment we think something is going to go to the ground, we’ll be hightailing it out of there. I promise.”
The boy shrugs, leaving the room to pack his bag, “It just doesn’t feel right.”
Before Clint can say anything else, Peter is out of the room, and Natasha takes his place in the doorway.
“Where’s his mother?” She asks, her stance casual, relaxed.
Clint looks up at her, putting down the bag he was packing. “He’s not biologically mine. His parents died when he was 4, then his aunt and uncle were shot when he was 6. He was thrown from home to home for 9 months before leaving the foster family he was with. 3 months later, he ran into me. I officially adopted him 5 years ago. Now we’re here.”
”He panicked a little when Cap grabbed him, he okay?”
Clint scoffs, “Why wouldn’t he panic? He takes a while to warm up to people, add that to his asthma issues, he can get himself worked up easily.”
Natasha looked ready to ask another question when Peter yells from the other room.
“Don’t touch my stuff!”
Clint rushes into Peter’s room, where the kid is holding a picture frame in his hands, Steve Rogers standing, shocked, in front of him.
“Sorry kid.” Steve backs up, “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
”You can’t just grab other people’s stuff! Maybe it was on the floor for a reason!” Peter sets the photo down on his bed.
“Peter.” Clint stands in the doorway, “He just wanted to help. You can trust him.”
Peter doesn’t meet Clint’s eyes, turning back around to continue packing, muttering under his breath, “I don’t need his help.”
Clint shoots a look at the teen’s back, then leaves the room, motioning for Steve to follow.
“Sorry, he’s not really a people person.”
Steve shakes his head, “It’s fine, I shouldn’t have picked anything up in the first place.”
--
In the backseat of Captain America's car, Peter was a nervous wreck. Under one arm was the cat cage, Winnie suspiciously calm with the situation she's been placed in. His other arm was wrapped tightly around Clint's upper arm.
The car ride wasn't long, thankfully, as Peter couldn't stand the awkward silence between the three adults in the vehicle. They pulled into the driveway of the Avengers Compound, and one look out the window made Peter even more nervous. The place was massive.
It was at this moment that he realized that Black Widow was speaking.
"... You and Peter will have your own floor, with it's own full size kitchen and living room, and your own rooms. You'll be three floors above the common floor, which every Avenger has access to. Once we get your IDs made, you both will get complete access to the tower, minus the labs and part of the garage."
Clint was nodding along, but Peter could see how this much information was sinking in with him.
"Most of the Avengers eat breakfast and lunch on the common floor, but they aren't required. Tony does ask though, that everybody attends dinner."
"Hear that, Petey?" Clint nudges Peter playfully, "You'll be eating dinner with Dr. Bruce Banner every night."
Peter's face goes red as he mumbles a quiet, "Shut up," and buries his head into Clint's side.
The car comes to a stop, and Natasha and Steve exit the car, with Peter and Clint hesitating.
Clint turns to Peter, "Ready for our next adventure?"
Peter shrugs, then nods, "I always am."
The get out of the car, just as the Tony Stark and Bruce Banner walk outside to greet them. Peter's heart drops at the words that leave Mr. Stark's mouth.
"You didn't mention that he has a kid."