Chapter 8
It's 2:31am, and the Avengers are awake.
Some of them, anyway. It's more of a SHIELD agent meeting rather than an Avengers meeting, so the others' attendance isn't particularly important. Everyone other than Clint, Natasha and Tony - who's not an agent, but he's awake as usual anyway - are taking full advantage of the chance to sleep a full, undisturbed night.
This time around, there's none of Bucky's peanut butter cookies to snack on, but there are fruit smoothies made by Dum-E and U on Tony's blender - and, for drinks created by robots, they are strangely delicious. Clint finds himself favouring them over the one Steve forces him to drink (but probably because Steve makes them from vegetables and protein powder instead of fruit and honey).
Natasha is entirely relaxed against the cushions on the couch, contentedly sipping at her smoothie. It's not often that Clint sees her as serene as she is; and though she looks perfectly tranquil in her leggings and sweater, he certainly has no doubts that there are at least three weapons on her person. She's always been the sort to be prepared for any situation, no matter how unlikely it is.
The billionaire is again on his usual perch on the countertop, pieces of scrap metal moved out the way in complete disarray in order to make room for him. He's probably been wearing the same pair of oil-stained sweatpants for a good two days now, but his hoodie is different - plain black and thin enough for the arc-reactor's blue to glow through.
(Clint likes to see the arc-reactor's light. It's nice to know that Tony is comfortable enough to expose it in front of them - when they'd first met, it'd been a different story entirely.)
Meanwhile, Clint is sitting on Tony's creeper (which is actually meant to be in his private lab a few floors up; why is it here when there's nothing to use it for?) and absently letting the wheels drift along the floor, doing nothing to interfere with its aimless trajectory. His back is starting to ache from the awkward sitting position and the lack of support but it ignores it.
None of them are tired. In fact, Clint feels more awake than he did when it had been light outside earlier.
"Sorry for the delay. Just... sorting out a few things for a sec," Tony murmurs, rubbing his eyes as he stares at the screen of his tablet. The billionaire's eyebags are starting to grow darker and darker with every night he stays awake, but it's useless trying to convince him to have a full night of sleep at this point. He eventually puts the tablet down beside him.
"Can we know what those things are?" Clint inquires.
If Tony hears his question, he doesn't acknowledge it. Across the room, the blender suddenly comes to life, the lid shaking dangerously atop the appliance and drops of reddish smoothie leaking over the container. Tony doesn't look up as he asks, "Dum-E, you idiot, mind stopping that blender for a bit? And don't even consider touching it, U."
Both Dum-E and U oblige immediately, though not without vocalizing their complaints through a string of whines and beeps. Dum-E (who is smarter than his name implies, really) even grabs an oil-stained rag with his claw and attempts to mop up the growing pool of smoothie around the counter, though, as expected, the robot's cleaning skills aren't up to par.
"But my smoothie!" Clint objects.
Tony deadpans, "you're going to end up pissing the stuff if you don't quit drinking it, Katniss."
"I don't see why that's a problem!" Clint exclaims - not really thinking about what he's saying until it comes out - and Tony makes an incredulous face.
"In Clint's defence," Natasha begins, and Clint marvels both inside and out because Natasha never says anything in his defence unless it's some sort of life and death situation, "they're pretty good. Who knew robots make good smoothies?" She gazes at the thick liquid in her cup, having taken a particular liking to the banana and strawberry ones.
"I knew."
Mild amusement upturn the corner of Clint's lips. "I would hope so. You invented them, after all."
"And I did a damn good job, didn't I?"
Tony twists his head to gaze at his bots, who are now squabbling over who gets to use the surface cleaner on the sticky part of the counter, where the smoothie spilt. Anyone else would have found his affection for his robotic inventions strange, but Clint finds it oddly adorable - considering Tony's backstory with Dum-E and U, he can understand where the love comes from.
(Besides, it's not like no one else loves those bots. There's been so many situations where they've come in handy and made everyone laugh with their antics that everyone who doesn't could be considered a monster. Or maybe a technophobe.)
"That you did," Clint agrees.
Natasha clears her throat. "I think we're getting off-track."
"Right," Tony says, picking up his tablet. "Got a little video message from Eyepatch for you two."
He swipes up on the tablet and then horizontally in the air, transferring the video feed onto the holographic screens. It's paused on a shot of Fury looking somewhat stern, and though the look is a usual constant on his face, a dash of fear still tightens Clint's throat - a stern Fury has never told them of good news.
Tony hesitates to unpause the video, noticing the increase of anxiety within the room. "You two ready?" he says.
Collected as ever, Natasha keeps her face blank. "Yeah."
"Nope. Unpause it," Clint urges.
The billionaire obliges and the video comes to life. Fury is only quiet for two seconds before he begins to address them, but it's enough to send anxiety bursting through Clint's veins. "Agents, this is a video regarding the search for Spiderman. I have been reminded that - from today - it has been one year, two months and five days ever since his missing status has been declared. Correct?"
Clint is aware that the video isn't live, but he finds himself murmuring 'correct' anyway.
"It has been a long time since we've had any leads as to who Spiderman really is and why he's stopped playing hero on the streets. The only information that's been useful to us is merely an assumption made by adding up minor clues."
The only thing they know of Spiderman is that he goes to school. And they only know this because they figured out what time Spiderman begins his patrol, and it happens to align exactly with the time that students get out of most schools throughout New York. Even if they have no concrete evidence of it, Clint thinks it's safe to say that they're correct.
Fury's solid expression falters so slightly that Clint nearly misses it. "And I am beginning to get to that point where I think that it's pointless to continue this search."
"What?" Natasha snaps, standing up.
Clint's breath bates. This isn't what he'd been expecting.
"I know that Spiderman has had an impact on the population on New York and that there are people who need the kind of help that Spiderman offers to them. I know that there are people who thought of Spiderman in the same way that they think of the Avengers - beacons of hope and safety. And I know that the people do miss him. Don't think I don't know that.
"But we are getting to the stage where the search is becoming fruitless. Think about it; what if Spiderman doesn't want to be found? What if Spiderman decided he wanted to hang up the suit and leave the vigilante business in order to pursue something of a different nature?"
The man has a point - one Clint has hardly considered as of late. If Spiderman didn't want to be found; wanted to get away from being Spiderman and simply be the man under the mask; then who are they to continue to scour for him? Who are they to try and pull him back into the life he doesn't want to be near?
Of course, there's the bleak possibility that Spiderman has been put to rest - that he met someone who he couldn't charm with his witty banter and defeat with his webs and his fists.
Clint doesn't want to think about it.
"And then there is the acknowledgement of the fact that Spiderman is not affiliated with SHIELD, nor with the Avengers. We have no rights over what Spiderman does and whether he wants to continue being Spiderman."
"Then why have we been searching?" Natasha gripes out.
And, as if Fury can hear her, he continues, "our search has been conducted simply because we began to notice how Spiderman impacted New York's population. How that, now he's gone, people are beginning to grow agitated - people are getting hurt by the little things the Avengers have never focused on. Like muggings, or store robberies. That was how he made his mark.
"We began this search, and the search is unsuccessful. There isn't much more we can do. Of course, there is nothing stopping you from continuing this search yourself, but just know that SHIELD will not be doing that any longer."
The screen goes blank. Tony, who intelligently remained quiet and impassive throughout the entire video, swipes a finger through the air, which dissipates the holographic screens. "D'you think you guys are going to continue searching yourself?" he asks, voice cutting through the tension in the air like a warm knife through butter.
Neither of them say anything. Clint never knew Spiderman on a personal level, but he definitely knew of the guy and what he did for New York. The Avengers never worked with petty crime such as bank hold-ups or bike stealing, but now that Spiderman isn't around anymore, the increase in it has definitely been made clear. It makes Clint realize just how important he really is.
Spiderman gave people peace of mind. He worked to protect the population and not the city - not as the Avengers do. Sure, helping a lady cross a street and delivering a mugger to a police station is no battling giant space caterpillars, but his work is just as significant. He was a beacon of hope and protection while swinging over the streets of New York.
And, as an Avenger, Clint has a duty to give the people that same peace of mind - and if that means spending day and night trying to, at the very least, find out why Spiderman isn’t around anymore, then so be it.
Natasha has always been difficult to read, but when Clint looks over to her, all he can see is how her jaw is tight with tension and how her face screams honest conflict. It could be startling if he didn't feel exactly the same way. "I don't know," she says eventually. "I really don't know."
”I guess that Fury has a point,” Clint begins to ponder. ”We won’t have luck finding what doesn’t want to be found.”
Tony sits back, his hand absently placing itself over the arc reactor in his chest. That familiar expression of deep thought returns to his face. “I mean, we don’t know what his reason for disappearing is, but you know that there’s a chance he... died, right?”
”I hope not,” Clint murmurs, biting his tongue as suspicions and assumptions of the worst surface in his brain. No matter what he does, he can't seem to shake the notion that Spiderman could very well be dead already. “That’s something I really don’t want to have to consider.”
”And yet, here we are, considering it anyway,” Natasha says. “Can we get more of those smoothies?"
.
Peter misses Spiderman.
He always has. Ever since Aunt May locked him in his bedroom back at the apartment and burned it until it was yet another layer of embers on the fireplace, there's been an empty space in his heart, yearning for the thrill and the satisfaction that he's giving people hope and safety to fill it once again.
One could say that Spiderman is his other half. Maybe even his better half. Spiderman saves lives; Peter burdens them. Spiderman is loved and appreciated by the public; Peter goes by every day without so much as being noticed.
It's been a while since Spiderman has been around, both in the streets and in his heart. He's well aware that the suit and the webshooters didn't make him Spiderman (that the little spider at the laboratory gave him these gifts, and he just made use of it), but he can't seem to find it in himself to try and gain that part of him back yet. The energy, the money, the motivation... it's all gone down the drain.
And Peter isn't sure what to make of the person it's left behind. The changes living on the street has enforced upon him are evident to himself and yet he can't seem to change himself back again - can't seem to snag that witty banter he used to charm with. Can't seem to turn himself into the proud person he was when he donned that red and blue suit.
So, yeah. Peter misses Spiderman.
It's this that he thinks about as he perches on the island counter in the communal kitchen, his palms circling a steaming mug of coffee (with milk and sugar, because black is just too bitter for his enhanced sense of taste), soaking in the comfort of its heat.
His sadness must show, because when Bruce comes trudging into the room with a serious case of bedhead and a pair of glasses on the bridge of his nose, the first thing he says to Peter that morning is, "are you okay, Pete?"
He looks up at the doctor. Bruce Banner must be the world's most genuine and gentle-hearted man - it even shows in his eyes, the way that coffee gaze radiates pure an unfaltering kindness. "I'm fine," Peter lies, finding the energy to offer him a soft smile. "Honest."
"It's okay to not be fine."
"I know."
Bruce opens the fridge and pulls out an apple, inspecting it in the light. "It must be overwhelming," he begins, "to go from living out on the streets and from relying on no one but yourself, to staying in a place as high-end as this. With people like this. And yet, you've adjusted so well. Makes me realize just how strong kids these days feel like they have to be."
Sipping at his coffee, Peter meets the man's eyes. "You've all made it so easy for me."
"Bucky isn't the best at meeting new people, did you know that? He finds it difficult because his anxiety makes a bit of trouble for him. It's the same with Tony." Bruce juggles the apple from one hand to another. "Sam told me that, when you and Bucky met, he was entirely calm about it. Usually, his voice stutters when he gets anxious, but Sam said he wasn't even shaking."
Peter wonders why Bruce is telling him this, and it must show on his face, because the doctor smiles and continues, "I'm trying to say that you put the team at ease, Peter. They haven't known you for very long, but they adore you. You're welcome in this Tower, Peter. I just want you to know that."
It's something akin to relief that washes over him, like a tidal wave of calm. "I haven't met Captain America yet," he says.
"You two just keep missing each other," Bruce points out, "he isn't avoiding you or anything, before you start thinking that. He spends a lot of time in the gym and in his private floor and you spend a lot of time on the communal floor and in the infirmary."
Peter smiles tensely and says, "I know."
The corners of the doctor's lips upturn. He tosses the apple to Peter, who catches it easily in one hand. "You're a good kid. Make sure you eat your greens."