Spider-Son & Iron Dad two shots

We Got Peter! (I Wish He Were My Kid)

a/n: happy birthday, peter parker! you deserve a world where the avengers are all very alive and love you as much as we do, so here's my birthday gift all for you <3

1. clint barton

Clint Barton is the first one to meet him.

His hands were blistered beyond belief from a foolhardy training session with the new girl, and with broken blisters brought blood. He just needed to get some bandaids, and one would think that an item as such would be easy to find in a compound designed top to bottom to cater to a superhero's every whim, but no.

He's in the only place someone can apparently find bandaids, when suddenly this curly brown-haired kid stumbled in looking the age of his eldest son. The kid wore pyjamas, a faded NASA tee and flannel pants, and he was walking while still hooked up to an IV, of which he held the stand beside him.

He froze when Clint was very obviously staring him down, and had the audacity to look caught.

Clint's getting real tired of picking up random kiddos that get themselves into trouble, so he cocked his head at the teen. "Who are you?"

"Peter," Peter answered with wide eyes. He had a healing shiner on his cheek, bruised a light yellow.

"What are you in here for, Peter?"

Peter opened his mouth, and then closed it. He awkwardly lifted the hem of his shirt up to reveal his entire torso heavily bandaged. Then he grimaced and dropped his shirt back down. "I wanted to go to the bathroom. Didn't want to call anyone for help."

Clint pulled a face. He looked around the medical wing for anyone else in sight, but the place was dim. He looked back at Peter. "Is someone supposed to be watching you?"

Peter shook his head. "I'm supposed to just rest. Everyone else is asleep."

Clint grunted. He looked back down at his hands and quickly peeled the bandaids out of their packaging, wrapping them expertly around his fingertips. "Well, get back in your bed, then."

Peter complied easily, settling back into a rumpled bed just across from the cabinets of medical supplies. He pulled the comforters back up, and Clint watched as his nose twitched and his teeth clenched from the movement.

Clint internally sighed. He closed the cabinet. "So, what's a kid doing with an injury like that? You someone's responsibility around here? Is it Steve?"

Peter shook his head tiredly and tilted his head back on the pillow. "No, not Steve. And the injury isn't... that bad, it's just— It stings, a little."

Clint walked over to the IV and narrowed his eyes at it. "This is strong stuff. Looks like it's running a little low, though."

"Yeah," Peter frowned. "It was dripping really fast, and it's almost been twenty four hours. The doctor lady, um, Dr. Cho said it should be switched out then."

"And where is she?"

"Got called away on a mission," Peter explained. "Something went wrong with some agents in Helsinki, they needed emergency medical attention."

Clint resigned. Guess he was taking care of this one, too. He walked over to the medical supplies and took a new bag of IV fluid before returning to Peter. "I'm gonna switch it out for you, hopefully that'll fix it up, okay?"

Peter nodded.

"So," Clint tore the opening. "How'd you get the stab wound?"

"How did you—"