Chapter Text
Peter Parker is tired.
It's been a long day—a long few months, really. He's managed to make do, spending his days working in order to pay rent for his little apartment. He counts himself lucky that he was able to seek out a position at Delmar's newly rebuilt store, which is bittersweet—as many things are for him these days—and he picks up odd jobs whenever he can to add a little extra to his savings. Of course, that means his patrols as Spider-Man have been pushed strictly to nights, but Peter doesn't mind. The worst of criminals seem to come crawling out of the cracks after dusk, anyway.
Studying for his GED isn't as high on the priority list—Peter knows he's probably more than ready for the test, but drawing it out gives him something to do in those rare spare moments he manages to find…and he hasn't quite come up with a plan for after that. He would love to go to college, but that costs money and Peter can barely afford to keep the lights on right now. Not to mention it's kind of difficult to get into school when nobody remembers he exists. The whole process of figuring out just how much of his identity itself had been erased with Strange's spell has been interesting, that's for sure. He's resigned himself to the fact that MIT is out of the picture; he is more than content with knowledge that Ned and MJ will get to go and do all the things the three of them have dreamed about for so long.
Peter swings through the city as dawn begins to break, reveling in the feel of the wind rushing through his new suit and the lingering adrenaline from the last crooks' plan he'd thwarted. His ribs are still aching from a particularly challenging fight—five against one aren't the best odds, even for Spider-Man—and he can feel his eyes burning from lack of sleep, but he knows he won't have time to catch more than a catnap before he has to head over to Delmar's for his shift. His crammed schedule leaves little time for sleeping—which isn't particularly a problem because he rarely can drift off even when he has the opportunity. The teen shudders when his mind conjures up the images from his nightmare two days ago. It's vivid, complete with familiar explosions and dying breaths and everyone's gone and he failed again.
Peter releases another web and decides to skip the nap once he's home.
He lands on a rooftop and lets the momentum from his last swing carry him into a run. His feet hit the edge of the building and he pushes off, leaping across the gap and landing softly on the roof of his apartment. When he finally crawls through his window, the exhaustion is tugging at him. He shuffles to the bathroom, ready to take a quick shower and find something to eat before he has to face another day.
He stands over the sink and reaches up to tug off his mask, wincing when his fingers accidentally brush the tender spot under his left eye. Yeah, that hit's gonna leave him with a spectacular black eye. He stares into the mirror, and his reflection stares back at him. Not for the first time, Peter tells himself he's okay. "You made it through another day," he mutters quietly. And that's all he can do. Take it one day at a time. Most days aren't so bad. Some are better than others, but everyone has their ups and downs, right? He can't expect to be completely fine all the time after he lost literally everything, even if it was his own fault.
He's had a lot more bad days than good lately.
Peter showers and tries to shove the constant train of thoughts away. He knows deep down that he's not really okay; he hasn't been since that night. But in spite of everything that had happened, he hadn't lost all hope initially. In fact, he'd felt more determined than ever to make the most of this new normal, to embrace his life without having to juggle being Peter Parker and Spider-Man. To make a difference and not become bitter or rageful, like Peter Three had warned him. He has to make the most of it, because it isn't like he can turn back time and fix everything he's messed up.
But Peter knows that, even just a couple of short months later, that determination has already begun to fade. It dwindles a little every time he comes home to a quiet, empty apartment. Every night he wakes up crying after another nightmare. Every morning he has to force himself to roll out from underneath the quilt that still smells like Aunt May. Every evening he pukes up whatever food he's managed to force down that day.
He does his best to ignore the emptiness in chest, but it's always there, the deep, physically painful ache letting him know that nothing is okay, and it probably will never be again.
Because it's all his fault.
Peter finishes getting ready before forcing himself to eat something and heading out. He has a stop to make before going on to work.
The cemetery is quiet as Peter threads his way through, head down because he knows the path by heart. He comes to a stop in front of the all-too-familiar headstone, jamming his hands into his pockets and forcing a smile onto his face.
"Hey, May," he croaks softly, his voice breaking the early morning silence.
Peter comes across Happy here every once in a while—he tries to avoid those meetups because it just hurts too much. To see Happy, to remember what used to be and how it's all different now. To know that he's the reason for the man's pain and grief.
He visits for a while longer, content to stand in the cold and keep his aunt company. The visits to her grave help remind him why he's still doing what he's doing. She'd whispered those words to him that night, "With great power, there must also come great responsibility," and Peter knew that giving up was no longer an option. If he can't push through every day for himself, he can at least do it for May. He owes her that much.
Peter zips his coat up higher and whispers his goodbyes, turning to leave.
And as usual, with every step, the weight on his shoulders grows heavier and heavier.
Peter Parker is tired.
***
Clint Barton is tired. He wonders how many times he'll have to retire before it'll finally stick.
But it's been over two months, and no world- or even city-ending situations have cropped up. Which is exactly why Clint's worried—because the calm never lasts.
He rolls his eyes at the spam of messages from Kate and decides he'll respond later. He's thankful that their wild…adventure at Christmas took a bit of the wind out of her sails; she's been content to go back to school in New York City and make the most of everything that happened. For now.
Clint, on the other hand, has also been more than happy to enjoy some downtime with his family. After the dust settled on the night of the Great Rockefeller Battle—as Kate likes to call it—Clint had hoped that he could return home and relax for good. Of course, nothing is ever that simple or easy. As much as he tries to ignore it, the former Avenger knows something is off.
And that something has to do with Spider-Man.
Clint might have been busy trying not to die at the hands of Yelena and the Tracksuits that night, but multiple times throughout the chaos of the fight, he'd caught glimpses of a signature red and blue suit swinging around, taking out Tracksuits left and right. By the time everything was over, though, the guy was nowhere to be found.
Clint isn't sure what to think about Spider-Man. The news—particularly The Daily Bugle—seems to think he's some rogue vigilante who creates more problems for the city than he solves. Clint has heard about the giant mess that had occurred at the Statue of Liberty just a few months ago, which was blamed on Spider-Man even though there was very little concrete evidence pointing to that belief.
The only other experiences he's had with the guy is when they were fighting each other in Tony and Cap's big showdown, and again during the epic battle with Thanos and his army.
Which is why Clint can't figure out why it's bothering him so much that he doesn't know who the guy is.
Obviously Tony had seen something in the spider guy if he'd recruited him to join forces against Cap and the other Avengers in that pissing match. Clint had little to no direct interactions with the guy, but from what he remembers, while Spider-Man was strong, he was also clearly inexperienced, maybe even on the younger side. He'd liked to talk, and that just reminds Clint of Kate. Oh boy. The last thing Clint needs is another Kate Bishop running around New York City.
But there's been something nagging at him ever since he last saw Spider-Man a few months back, and it's not leaving his head, no matter how hard he tries to push the thoughts away. It bothers Clint that he can't remember ever seeing Spider-Man's face—the man behind the mask. He must've been at Tony's funeral, surely? But no matter how hard Clint racks his brain for answers, he can't find them.
He tells himself the fuzzy memories are just a result of his old age—he's really not as young as he used to be—maybe even some form of PTSD from everything that he's dealt with over the years. That he's overthinking things, and it's not a big deal.
It's been two months and then some, and he still can't shake the feeling. He finally tells Laura about it, after she asks him—not for the first time—if something is wrong. He says that he's probably just making a big deal out of nothing, and he doesn't need to go looking for trouble. But his wife is smart.
"Clint, I know you too well to know that once you get something in that head of yours, you can't let it go," she'd told him, not unkindly. "What would it hurt, just to see?"
Well, Clint can think of about one hundred and one ways it could go wrong, because he's lived long enough to know that something can always go wrong—and what's that law that says if something can go wrong, it will?
But as usual, Laura is right, and Clint knows he won't be able to truly rest until he's uncovered some sort of information on Spider-Man. He does some digging on his own, but it seems as though the vigilante is sneaky. No one has ever seen his face, or found out where he lives, or, well, knows much of anything about the guy. He tends to stick around Queens, but somehow was spotted in Europe at some point last year, when the whole shebang with Mysterio happened; people still have mixed opinions about that situation.
Clint wonders how Tony found him. Then again, it wasn't often, if ever, that Tony Stark didn't get what he wanted. The whole billionaire thing along with the fancy tech and resources probably helped that endeavor, too.
Clint may bemoan the fact that he can never seem to catch a break, but he's beginning to realize that maybe staying still just isn't for him. He loves his family more than he can say, and every moment spent with them is a dream come true—especially after those five horrible years after the Snap… Despite that, he's never been one to just do nothing twenty-four-seven, and he has to admit it feels good to have a mission that isn't planting flowers in front of the house or repairing another piece of heavy farm equipment.
So Clint decides that he'll go to NYC again. He has some other business he should take care of there, anyway, and he can check in on Kate and make sure she's staying out of trouble. And if he's lucky, he'll be able to track down Spider-Man, thank him for his assistance at Rockefeller. Actually, he'd heard that Spider-Man had been spotted there the next day, helping with clean-up efforts since the fight had pretty much destroyed the entire Christmas…what was it Kate had said? Vibe?
Anyway, Clint figures that he can also ask the guy a few questions relating to the Avengers and everything that happened—how he ended up being recruited by Tony Stark in the first place, and why he ran off back to Queens immediately after the dust settled. Hopefully that will be enough to satisfy Clint's unprompted interest in Spider-Man, and he can return home content.
But as usual, nothing is ever that easy for Clint Barton.