May stared aimlessly out the windshield of a truck. It was early in the morning. Too early. No sleep at all. She never felt so exhausted in her life with the exception of Ben's death. It was almost as equivalent to it. Almost.
When she hopped on the plane with her nephew, she had no idea where they jetted off to. Upon arrival, May looked out her window and saw woodlands and long-stretched fields of emptiness. Nothing else.
Except for a truck, parked near the edge of the strip of runway, with a former Avenger standing beside it. Clint Barton waved to May as he walked up to the plane as the door opened to reveal stairs. Guess it was time to get off the plane.
And now they squeezed into Clint's truck, with May seated in the middle, Clint at the wheel and Peter on her other side. Her nephew hadn't said a word since the d
May stared aimlessly out the windshield of a truck. It was early in the morning. Too early. No sleep at all. She never felt so exhausted in her life with the exception of Ben's death. It was almost as equivalent to it. Almost.
When she hopped on the plane with her nephew, she had no idea where they jetted off to. Upon arrival, May looked out her window and saw woodlands and long-stretched fields of emptiness. Nothing else.
Except for a truck, parked near the edge of the strip of runway, with a former Avenger standing beside it. Clint Barton waved to May as he walked up to the plane as the door opened to reveal stairs. Guess it was time to get off the plane.
And now they squeezed into Clint's truck, with May seated in the middle, Clint at the wheel and Peter on her other side. Her nephew hadn't said a word since the departed New York. After his one phone call, he kept himself quiet, tucked into a ball and eyes staring straight ahead into an unknown abyss. He remained that way after they debarked. He gave a quick hug to Clint, who was kind and whispered something to her kid, but Peter remained a zombie as he hopped into the truck.
They drove in quiet solitude despite their cramped situation. May wasn't too bothered by it. It gave her a moment to reflect everything that happened. Or to at least to have some resemblance of peace.
Clint turned off onto a dusty road that went deep into some woodlands. It didn't surprise her at all for him to live in a cabin. After all, he was good with bows and arrows for a reason.
But, they didn't slow down. The road kept going and going, until they were out of the woods and into an open field, basked in the purple hue of a morning sunrise. Up ahead, where the dirt road came to an end, was a house and a barn.
May silently admitted she was surprised. She never expected Hawkeye to be a farmer. A hunter—yes. Farmer? Never crossed her mind.
As the truck drew closer to the house, the front door opened. A jolt zapped right through May, almost uncertain if she was hallucinating or not. Yet, the woman walking out to porch steps looked real with shoulder-length brown hair and casual attire of a bohemian blouse and jeans, wrapped up in a bright cardigan against the chilly air.
Clint came to a park and turned the engine off. They arrived.
Yet, May didn't unbuckle. "Who's that?" she asked, her arms ready to shield Peter if necessary. Was she another agent? Like Sharon Carter? Or Natasha?
"That would be my wife Laura," Clint answered as he got out of his truck.
Wife?
Hawkeye was married?! She thought Stark was the only Avenger in a serious relationship.
Peter slipped out of the car as well, snatching his bag from the back before walking to the front of the house where the mysterious wife waited. May followed out, closing the door as she watched Peter go to Laura's outstretched arms and into her embrace.
So… her nephew knew Laura Barton. Well enough to accept a hug.
"I can take that for you," Clint's voice spooked her as he took May's little suitcase. "Best we get inside."
May followed Clint as his wife and Peter already disappeared indoors. Again, the house was nothing like she pictured for Hawkeye. It was quaint and homey, very much a country home. The living room was open and spacious, the morning light guiding her through the room. Wooden beams lined the ceiling and pots and pans hooked on the walls.
Quite a different landscape from Tony Stark's home decor.
Laura Barton was quietly talking to Peter until she saw May looking at them. "You must be the famous May Parker," Laura smiled and shook May's hand. "I'm Laura Barton. Peter's told us a lot about you."
May glanced at Peter, cheeks warm when she spoke . "Oh, then... I feel awkward," she confessed. "I'm afraid I don't know you at all."
Laura's eyebrows bunched in confusion before she looked to Peter for an explanation.
Peter only apologetically shrugged. "Figured it wasn't my secret to tell."
Laura nodded her head in understanding. "For security purposes, our family is a secret," she explained to May. "You know with Clint's job as dangerous as it is. Best we keep our personal lives under the radar. Not many people know we are married."
Like herself.
"I'm sure you and Peter are exhausted," Laura kindly stated, "but if you are up for it, I'm going to make some breakfast. Do you like eggs? Bacon or sausage? Wait... are you vegetarian?"
May shook her head. "Um, no, but breakfast sounds good. Didn't realize I was hungry until you mentioned it."
"Good! I mean, okay," Laura said. "I'll whip up something for all of us. Clint? Honey? You wanna..."
Clint nodded and nudged his head toward the stairs. "I'll show you to your room."
May was going to follow after Peter, but he already disappeared. Again.
She followed Clint up the creaking stairs, going up into the house where she saw more domestic life of Clint Barton. Peeking into a room as they walked passed, she gaped at the girly atmosphere of dolls, teacups and pink bedsheets.
"You have a daughter?" May uttered, finding it hard to believe that not only was Hawkeye married, but also a father.
Clint glanced back to her. "Yeah, and two boys too," he replied. "They're away at their grandparents for a few days. Figured you and Peter can get situated without them running around like crazy."
They passed a boy's room with its cluttered belongings and a gigantic basketball star poster covering half of a wall. Peter wasn't interested in sports. His small physique kept him sidelined and it never took hold. Not like Ben's interest. Ben loved to play football and basketball. May remembered Ben trying to teach Peter how to dribble a basketball and do a lay-up. Poor Peter couldn't get the coordination quite right. Not until he became Spider-man.
"Up these last stairs," Clint said to her as he climbed another short staircase.
They reached the highest peak in the house and May saw that it was the house's attic. Instead of it being cluttered with antiques and fond memories, it was cleared with a twin bed, nightstand, dresser, and a desk. A storage unit that transformed into a bedroom.
But not any bedroom.
As May quickly scanned the room, she noticed it was tailored to a certain taste. Someone with interests in sciences and fandoms. She inched to the desk and spotted a small picture frame. It was of Peter, sitting on a large tractor with Clint and another boy down below.
May looked from the photograph to the rest of the bedroom.
It was Peter's bedroom.
Clint dropped the suitcase off to the side. "I know it's a twin," he said to May. "We aren't expecting you and Peter to share it. We have a blow-up mattress. It's comfortable enough. Peter's slept on it a few nights before we got the bed here. It can fit in this space, but it might be a little tight."
"So… um," May struggled to figure out what she wanted to say to the man. "How long were you and, um, Peter… how long was he here with you? I mean, how long did he stay? Here?"
Clint brows twitched up in surprise. "He didn't tell you?" he said. "Oh—um, six months. Maybe seven. I'll have to ask Laura for certain."
"Half a year?"
Clint nodded. "Pretty much," he said. "This is where he stayed. Guess you can kind of tell. None of my kids would go crazy over—" He peered at the small bookshelf crammed full with thick books that May never read, "Brief Answers to the Big Questions. It's not really their thing."
"Peter does enjoy a good Stephan Hawking book," May noted with a hint of smile. But even her smile was exhausted. Too long of day.
Clint must have realized, because he quickly excused himself. "I'll let you know when breakfast is ready. You can relax or what not. If you need the bathroom, it's the second door on your left when you come back to the second floor."
May thanked him and soon, she was all by herself in the little bedroom. She looked around, wondering if there was any other clues of Peter's previous existence in the household. She found worksheets with his handwriting scribbling all over the pages. Notes and diagrams that resembled DUMBO, the annoying robot back at their apartment. He built its foundation in this very room.
For a city boy, he quickly learned to adapt to the country lifestyle.
May wondered where he boy ran off. She looked out the sole window of the attic, seeing the vast farmland with the woodlands near the edge. The rocky road that guided them up to this faraway home. There was a barn not too far away, closed and locked, but she didn't hear any animals. Perhaps Hawkeye was not that type of farmer.
Despite her exhaustion, she couldn't sleep. All her nerves were too wired and muscles too tense to relax. Best to head downstairs to be with the Bartons. Maybe even find Peter, if he was at all interested in speaking with her. Since she told him the truth, he kept his distance from her and hardly said a word. Resentful for her hand in all the secrecy.
She hoped he didn't hold onto it for long.
May walked back down the stairs, coming down to the main landing when she heard the sizzling of pans and the boiling of water coming from the kitchen. It smelled wonderful and May's stomach purred in approval.
Only Laura was in the kitchen. She busied herself running from stovetop to the toaster, switching toasted slices with fresh ones.
"You need help?" May walked further into the kitchen as Laura glanced over her shoulder.
"I got it," Laura replied, "Everything okay upstairs?"
May nodded. "Yeah. I, um, just didn't want to be alone." She looked around, searching. "Do you know where Peter is?"
Laura jabbed her spatula to the window. "He's outside," she answered. "Don't worry though. Clint is with him."
May went to the window and she saw Peter and Clint walking around the grounds. She relaxed a little. At least she knew where Peter was.
"Here."
Laura stood beside her, offering a warm mug of coffee to her. May accepted and gave a gracious thank you in return. The warmth between her palms was welcoming.
"How you doing?" Laura asked, pulling out a chair for May to sit.
May took the seat. "I'm okay."
Laura gave her a look.
"I mean... I'm not doing great, but I'm still standing," May explained and she took a sip of the coffee. "I'm more worried about Peter."
"Everyone is," Laura agreed, "but you cannot forget yourself. You are just under the same amount of stress."
"Some may say differently."
"You mean people who aren't parents?" Laura remarked as she cut up apples. "Yeah, they would say differently. Any parent knows that when a child bleeds, a parent bleeds."
May concurred with the sentiment. Her emotions often reflected Peter's mood. If her nephew was sad, May couldn't stop the feeling from enveloping her. When Peter scrapped his knees and palms, crying in pain, May cried with him. When Peter was overjoyed of making into Midtown, May was next to him, jumping up and down with smiles.
Parents felt everything their kids felt. Even now, with the weight of the world and the scrutiny of the press upon them, she sensed the devastation and heartbreak he tried to keep at bay.
May put the mug down on the table. "I guess that's why you kept your family a secret?" she said. "Avoid the whole fiasco we're currently in."
"Something like that," Laura said. "Clint's profession invited danger and we didn't want that in our personal lives. He had Fury set this place up for us. Kept us off any government records. Made us invisible to anyone who may hurt us."
Lucky them, May thought. Her and Peter never got that. They were thrown right into the spotlight and placed in immediate danger. The public scrutinized everything Peter did, demanding his attention a boy like him didn't need any of it. Or want it. They were known. They were threatened. They got hurt.
May sighed. "Did I do the right thing?"
She didn't know if Laura knew the full story about Osborn's meddling, but she wanted another mother's opinion.
Laura stopped her busy movements, chin tilted up as she pondered. "It's hard to ever know if we do right by our children," she said after a moment. "We do our best and pray it helps our kids in the long run. But in this particular situation, I don't think you could have ever stopped the pain Peter is feeling."
"So… I didn't do the right thing."
"No! No, no, no. That's not what I meant," Laura quickly amended. "I'm saying that there was nothing you could do to stop Peter from feeling hurt. No one faults you on what you did. You wanted to give Peter back some normalcy by keeping him out of the Avengers' business. I would have done the same. And, honestly, I think Peter understands that too. He's just hurt from the fact that his parents were murdered. And that pain is something you could never protect him from.
"Truthfully, I don't think Peter is even mad at you for keeping it a secret from him," Laura continued on, going back to cracking eggs into a frying pan. "He's a boy who misses his parents and it hurts to miss people you love."
May doubted it. Laura wasn't there when Peter looked at her like she betrayed him. She didn't watch him collapse in a fit, wailing in agony. She didn't feel the constant rejection Peter gave her every time she tried to talk or hug him.
The backdoor swung opened, the screen creaking and groaning as it did. Clint walked in, brushing off his boots. Peter was behind him.
"Smells good," Clint commented, coming around Laura to swipe some of her sliced applies.
Laura smacked his hand away. "No—go set the table," she ordered and then looked over at Peter, who was undoing his laces. "Oh—Peter?"
Peter looked up.
"Grab that jug on the top shelf, please?"
Peter plucked the jug off the shelf and came back down to hand it off to Laura. But, she redirected him to the bag of oranges. "Press those for juice."
It was the first time May heard Peter speak since she told him the truth. "Ah—come on," he groaned. "Can't I set the table instead?"
"Sorry, kid," Clint remarked, setting the plates on the table. "I'm already halfway done."
Peter mumbled, but he ripped the bag of oranges easily with his bare hands. No need for scissors. He took a knife, ready to slice one orange into two to start.
May jumped up from her seat. "I'll help you, Peter," she volunteered.
"That's okay," Peter quickly said. "I got it."
And like that Peter kept his back to her. May slowly sunk back into her chair while the Laura and Clint looked at her with awkward and sympathetic stares. Then, Clint spoke up again.
"Hey? Pete," he called to Peter. "Why don't you let your aunt help you out? Make things go by faster."
"Nah… it wouldn't make much of a difference."
Clint gave May an apologetic shrug, but May thanked him nonetheless for his effort. Soon breakfast was ready. Laura provided a bountiful breakfast with eggs, sausage, toast, fruit and orange juice or coffee to drink. May nibbled on some toast and fruit, keeping with her tea as everyone helped themselves. Peter ate almost everything at the table, but neither Laura nor Clint minded. They must have gotten used to not having any leftovers.
Breakfast ended as quickly as it came. Peter finished first, taking his dishes to the sink and washing them, before bounding up the stairs with claims he wanted a nap. May stayed with the adults, wondering again if she did the right thing.
The next two days, May hardly saw Peter. When she came upstairs to bed, he was already asleep (or pretending to be) and upon waking the next morning, he was gone. Out in the fields or somewhere. He avoided May and May was too worried to go and confront him. She figured space was what he needed, but for how long, she wasn't sure.
She spent her days with Laura, helping odd projects around the house. She enjoyed Laura's company greatly. She was refreshing. Not that May didn't like hanging out with Pepper, but Laura's similar background and lifestyle was something May desperately needed.
Laura entertained May with photos of Peter's stay with the Barton family. May was amazed how incorporated Peter became in their family. She looked through the photographs, watching her boy adapt from city life to farm life through the array of photographs. All those photographs of Peter on a tractor or working on the farm explained his recent tan lines. May came across one photograph that got her rip-roaring laughter. It was a picture of Peter with blonde hair, standing next to Natasha. And… oh it did not look good at all. She asked for a copy of that photograph.
But, there were moments she saw that broke her heart. There was a framed photograph on one of the end tables by the couches. The picture contained the whole Barton family, plus Peter, who was seated center in the photograph. In front of him was a large cake that read Happy Sixteen.
May had been planning Peter's sweet sixteen birthday for a long time. She had all these fantastic ideas and themes, and she couldn't wait to celebrate the big birthday with her nephew. Yet, all that time and effort was wasted. Ross took her child away, along with the chance to celebrate his sweet sixteen. A birthday that she never wanted to miss.
Peter looked happy though. He fit in quite well with their little family. May couldn't help but think that Peter deserved it. He should have had his parents, raising and loving him. He should had little brothers and sisters, tagging along with him. But, Peter was denied all of that. Because of Osborn.
Laura promised to make copies of the photographs she taken. But first, she had to pick up her children from the grandparents' house.
"It's going to a hurricane when we come back."
May didn't know what she meant by that. She lounged in the family room, reading a book while Peter was upstairs, showering off the grime and filth from working on the tractor's engine. Near the dinner time, May heard a truck roll up the driveway and park. A gaggle of voices of different tones could be heard and May lowered her book in preparation to meet the Barton kids.
But, she was shocked back when a little girl, with two low pigtails burst through the door. Her eyes were wide as saucers, head snapping in every direction like she was searching for something. Or someone.
"Peter!" the little girl screamed. "PETER!"
An older boy followed behind her. He too scanned the family room in search until the thundering of footsteps down the staircase alerted them. Peter came to the landing, smiling wide at seeing the two kids.
"Hey guys…"
His voice was cut off as the girl shrieked and ran at him, slamming right into his chest that knocked the air out of Peter's lungs. The boy came over too, hugging Peter as well. But, it was the girl that drew all the attention.
"Peter! Peter! Peter!" she kept going, her voice shrilled in pure delight. "You're back! You gonna stay this time? Please? Please? Please?"
Peter laughed. "Miss you too, Lila," he answered just as Laura came through the front door. She was carrying a three year old in her arms with a large diaper bag slung over her arms.
"Lila! Coop!" she called to them. "I told you two to bring in your bags. Now, go out and get them."
Lila, the little girl, whined. "But Mommy…" she said. "Peter's here."
"And he'll still be here when you come back," she said. "Now—hop to!"
"Mommy…"
"Don't argue with your mother, Lila," Clint appeared on the stairs, smiling at his kids. "Go and get your stuff. Peter will be right here."
The little girl whined and huffed before racing out the door to grab her belongings. Cooper followed after, but at a much more relaxed pace. Laura maneuvered around, restraining the young child in her arms as it waved wildly in Peter's direction.
May watched her nephew's eyes brighten. A smile widening as he strode over, taking the child from Laura's arm with ease. "Hey…" he cooed as the child smiled and made a little shriek. "How's my super-secret agent doing these days?"
The child babbled excitedly, most of it nonsense. Yet, Peter smiled along, listening and encouraging the nonsense by indulging in the boy's nonsensical conversation. The other two children returned, carrying their respective duffels only to drop them in the foyer on top of the shoes. Clint had to redirect them to pick up their belongings to put in their room.
Luckily, there was no whining as Peter volunteered to go up with them. Cooper had something in his room that he wanted to show Peter and Lila wanted to take Peter to her room to meet her dolls. So, all the kids raced upstairs, leaving all the adults downstairs.
May turned to Laura, who looked wiped out. "So… those are your kids?"
Laura smiled. "Yep and like I said… hurricane."
Clint slid his arm around his wife's waist as Laura leaned into him in one swoop. "Oh… go easy on them," he said to Laura. "You know how much they missed him. How many times have they asked when he was going to come back?"
"Oh, I stopped counting after the first week."
Clint and Laura shared a sweet smile before he gave her a tiny peck on the forehead. "See? Let the kids have fun for a bit."
It was a lot for May to suddenly take in. Her perception on the famed archer kept being twisted into something new. First a wife. Then children. And now, even his children adore Peter.
"I didn't realize Peter was so close to your kids," May said after a moment when the adults all settled in the comfy sofas. "I mean… I never heard him say anything about them. Then again, he didn't mention you ever having a family."
Clint shook his head, a grin turning up his cheeks a bit. "Yeah… I didn't know Peter would keep it a secret," he admitted. "I respect him for doing so, but yeah our kids see him as an older brother. Coop calls him for homework help. Lila calls him way too many times. We had to actually stop her a handful of times. But he's been keeping in touch with us. I honestly thought you knew about it."
May shook her head. "Knew nothing about it."
A hurried, pounding of footsteps clambered down the staircase. The Barton's oldest, Cooper, appeared, eyes searching until they landed on his father. "Dad! Can Peter and I go to the school's basketball game tonight?"
"There's a game?" questioned Clint, surprised.
"Yeah! Everyone's going," Cooper said. "Billy, Lukas, John and I want Peter to meet them. Since you know… he's no longer a fugitive."
Clint rolled his eyes, but not in front of his son. "Coop—Peter's not an attraction that you can show off," he said. "Besides, Peter's supposed to stay on the down-low."
"But he's not a fugitive anymore!" argued Cooper. "Why can't we go?"
May twisted in her seat to look over at Cooper from a better angle. "Peter can go," she said, approving the idea. Might help get Peter out from under his dark cloud. "As long as it doesn't draw too much attention, he can go see a game. I'm sure he would be happy to go and meet your friends."
That certainly got Cooper excited. He bounced on his feet and before his parents could counter-act that ruling, he darted back upstairs, calling Peter's name.
Clint groaned. "Looks like I have to go to a game tonight, huh?"
Laura lightly patted his arm. "You enjoy those as much as you complain about them," she remarked with a scrunched and silly face. "Just don't buy any junk food there, okay? Grandma and Grandpa fed them dinner."
Clint got up from the couch and went off to get ready. One by one, the living room filled again with young children and Peter, holding the youngest child's hand as the boy pattered around the living to show Peter his favorite places to play and nap. Cooper was putt on his shoes when Lila joined him, tying up her shoelaces.
"Where are you going?" Cooper asked.
"With you," Lila answered. "To the game."
"No you're not!"
"Yes I am!"
May darted a look from the kids to Laura. Even she was aware of the rising tantrum about to take place. "Kids—no fighting," Laura warned.
"But she can't come with us!" Cooper argued. "She doesn't even like basketball!"
"Yes I do," Lila crossed her arms.
Cooper gave her a sharp look. "Oh yeah? What is it?"
"It's a game with a ball and a basket, duh!"
Cooper obnoxiously rolled his eyes. Similar to how Clint did it earlier. "Mom! Tell her she can't go!"
Lila ran to her mother, grabbing onto Laura's shirt. "Mommy! I want to go! I do! I do!"
"She only wants to go because Peter's going," Cooper complained. "She'll talk through the entire game! She always does!"
"No I won't!"
"Yes you will!" Cooper fired back. "Can't it just be a guys' night? Or something?"
"But I wanna go!" Lila whined, her eyes getting shiner and wider by the second. "I wanna go!"
The last words were screamed out, drawing everyone's attention to the little girl. Peter scooped up the youngest child, balancing him on his hip as he approached everyone else.
"Hey, Lila, what's up?" Peter asked, concerned and with great care of her hurt feelings. "What's the matter?"
Lila shook her head, eyes welled with hundreds of tears. "Cooper won't let me go because he's being a mean butt-face!"
Cooper's eyes went round. "Are you kidding me? Mom—"
Laura looked suddenly overwhelmed by her two oldest children. "Okay… okay, everyone settle down," she ordered. "Stop yelling. Now—Lila, are you really going to watch the game or are you just going to talk?"
"I'm going to watch," Lila answered, determined.
Cooper snorted. "She's lying, Mom! She is never quiet. Ever."
"Coop—you have to understand that she just wants to spend time with Peter," Laura tried to reason.
Even Peter added on. "I don't mind sitting next to her during the game," he said. "It's not a problem."
Only Cooper groaned loudly at that. "Why does she always get to hang-out with him?" Cooper challenged. "I want to watch the game with Peter. And I want him to meet my friends."
"I can do that too," Peter offered.
"See? He'll meet your friends and he can sit in between you and Lila," Laura said as a compromise. "So, you can take your little sister with you."
"No."
More footsteps were heard and Clint returned to the living room, sporting jeans, a plain dark-green shirt and a jacket. He held socks in his hands as he walked across to the shoes. "What's going on now?" he asked as he took a seat to put on his shoes. "Game not happening?"
Laura peevishly looked at Clint. "Lila wants to come too."
That surprised Clint as he snapped his attention to his daughter. "But you hate sports."
"She wants to go because Peter is going," Cooper complained. "Dad—tell her she can't go."
Clint chuckled. "I'm not going to do that."
"But Dad—"
"Cooper, if Lila wants to come, she can."
"But she'll just talk the entire time! And she'll bother Peter and—"
Clint's eyes softened to one of understanding. May watched Clint and Laura share a look before they turned to Lila. "Hey, sweetie, come here?" Clint called for his daughter.
Lila slid her feet over. Clint hoisted her up and settled her on his lap. "How about you spend some time with Mommy? You know how much she hates to be alone while all of us leave," he said. "I bet you two will have so much more fun than us. How about that tea party you've been trying to host? I'm sure Mommy and May—
"Who's that?"
Clint nudged his head in May's direction. The little girl's eyes found May and her face scrunched into a deep, intense scrutiny. "Who are you?"
"Lila!" gasped Laura, face flushed in extreme embarrassment. "Where are you manners?"
Peter quickly stepped in. "Sorry! That's my bad," he said. "I got super excited to see you guys I forgot to introduce you guys." Peter stood beside May, changing the child's position on his hip. "This is my aunt, May. She raised me. May? This is Cooper, Lila and this one here." Peter hoisted the boy up a bit further on his hip, "is Nathaniel. Or Little Nat. He was named after Black Widow."
May gave a sweet smile to the Little Nat, but the young boy only blankly stared at her. He had no reaction to May's sudden appearance in their lives. Cooper said a little hello, but Lila remained uncertain, questioning. Almost like she truly didn't believe her to be Peter's relative.
"You don't look like Peter," she said after a moment.
Laura dropped her face in her hand and Clint flicked a finger at his daughter's arm. "Lila—that's no way to say hello to someone," he said. "Your mother's right. Where are you manners?"
Lila looked somewhat ashamed, lowering her head a bit. "Sorry," she apologized.
"That's okay," May said. "I'm his aunt by marriage. Not blood. So… that's why we don't look a lot alike."
"Peter spoke a lot about you," Cooper spoke up. "It's nice to finally meet you."
That warmed May's heart to hear that Peter spoke of her to these kids. She wondered if Peter would ever speak to her again. So far, he still has remained silent to her.
"Well, it's nice to finally meet you as well," May returned. "I'm glad Peter has you guys. He always wanted siblings when he was younger."
The two older children flickered their eyes to Peter. It appeared he never told them that. But, Peter didn't act offended or upset. He was listening to Nathaniel chat away.
Clint glanced down at his watch. "All right," he announced to the group. "How about this—Lila? You stay home with mom tonight and then tomorrow, you and Peter can do whatever you want. Okay?"
Tears filled those large, brown eyes again. "D-Daddy! I wanna go! I-I wanna go!"
"I know. I know," Clint said to calm her rising shrill. "But Coop's got a point. You don't like basketball and you have a habit of continuously speaking when bored. Your brother and Peter want to enjoy the game. And your brother wants to spend time with Peter and his friends. So—why don't we let the boys do their own thing and then tomorrow, you can do something you enjoy with Peter. Okay?"
Lila didn't agree to that. She cried. Loud. A long, winding wail as she tried to beg her dad to take her with him. But it only reassure Clint that he made the right decision. Especially when she started to call Cooper names, to which Clint immediately glared at her with a single look that got her to stop.
"It's not fair!" she whined, stomping her little feet. "I want to hang-out with Peter! I want to be with him! I want to go!"
Peter suddenly put Nat down and dropped to his knees in front of Lila. "Hey… hey, come here," he said, and Lila ran into his arms, locked right behind his neck. "Your dad's right. This won't be fun for you. You hate basketball. Remember how you used to hide the ball from Coop and me?"
May watched Lila's head bob a yes in response.
"I promise you and I can do something tomorrow," Peter vowed to her. "You and me. No one else. How about that? We can play dolls. Or American Idol. Whatever you want."
Lila sniffled loudly, rubbing her eyes. "Y-You promise?"
Peter smiled wide and held out his pinky. "I promise."
The little girl wrapped her own pinky around his. A little shake, signaling the deal. "Thank you," Peter said to Lila. "And you know what I would actually appreciate?"
Lila shook her head.
"If you could look after my aunt for me," Peter said. "She's new here and isn't used to the farm life. Like I was when I first came. You remember that? I would appreciate it if you show my aunt around. Be a friend to her. Can you do that?"
Lila nodded feverishly.
Peter hugged Lila again. "Thanks, Li!" he said. "You're the best."
It was settled. The boys all left and while Lila continued to cry, it wasn't a full-blown tantrum. She clung to her mother's hand, waving at the departing truck as the boys headed off to the game. Once the truck was out of sight, they went back in to the warmth of the house. Laura scooped up Nathaniel, taking him over to the playpen to play with his blocks.
Lila went directly up to May. "You wanna see my doll collection?"
May knew Lila asked because Peter told her to, but it was nice that Lila honored the request. "I would love to!"
Lila led her upstairs to her bedroom, where she had a set of dolls on a bookshelf. She went on to introduce each doll to May. She learned most of the dolls came from Natasha Romanoff from her travels, but a few were from her parents. Lila happily showed off her favorite dolls and accessories before she revealed a small karaoke set in the corner of her room.
"Peter helped me build this," Lila said, "because one day I'm gonna be a singer. And Peter said if I want to be good I gotta practice."
May looked over the device. It did look like something Peter built out of scrap parts he found in dumpsters around New York. "You want to be a singer?"
Lila nodded. "Yep! I'm gonna sing at mine and Peter's wedding."
"What?" May cracked a smile, thrown again by Lila's blunt statement. "You and Peter are getting married?"
Lila nodded.
"Does Peter know this?" May asked, wondering if Lila ever told him of her crush.
"Yeah! He says we have to wait until we're older, but I'm gonna be his wife one day."
May didn't know what to say. It was cute that Lila had a massive crush on Peter, but she felt a little sorry for Lila. No amount of waiting was going to win Peter. He was already in love with another girl. And though Peter never said it out-loud, he knew Peter well enough to know when he was head over heels over someone. And Peter was absolutely smitten with MJ.
So, May opted to not say anything. She just smiled. "Well, I'll be happy to have you as my niece-in-law."
That got the little girl to smile brightly. She picked up the microphone. "You wanna sing? Peter says you can sing much better than him."
The girl shoved the microphone in her hand. Looked like May had no choice. "Um… okay."
And that was how May spent her night. She sang a few karaoke songs by herself and a few times with Lila. Then Lila showed off some dance moves for her and Laura, who finally got Nathaniel to fall asleep. The boys had yet to return from the game, but Laura suspected it would be another hour.
"Clint most likely took them out to this ice cream parlor after the game," Laura said as she helped Lila into her bed. The girl was exhausted. All the emotional upheaval and then the dancing and singing, knocked her out cold.
It was just Laura and her now, drinking tea and relaxing. May glanced over at Laura, spying her tired face. "Thank you."
Laura blinked up to her. "Oh, you're welcome," she said. "Sorry we don't have any other kind of tea. I need to go to the grocery store to pick up more, but I haven't—"
"No, no," May shook her head. "No, I mean… thank you! For taking care of Peter and raising him alongside your family. Peter always wanted a big family. He wanted siblings, but it just wasn't in the cards."
Laura's face morphed into sorrow. "Oh… I'm sorry—"
"It's okay," May promised her. "Really. I've known for a long time. Before we even got Peter, we knew the chances of us having kids were slim. Peter became our child and we loved him as much. But, it always saddened me to see him being the only child. I always thought he would make a great older brother.
"Now—I know he does," May said with a bright smile. "So, again, thank you! I appreciate everything you did for Peter. Everything."
"It was our pleasure, really," Laura said. "Peter's a good boy and it makes me mad to see all these bad things happen to him. It's not fair. He's a good kid. With a kind and generous heart. He doesn't deserve it. Any of it."
May nodded in agreement. Peter didn't deserve this at all.
The boys returned in an hour as Laura predicted. And again, she predicted right when they came in with empty paper bowls and cups from a local ice cream parlor. Cooper excitedly told his mother everything! His friends were stunned that he knew Peter Parker, and they were even more impressed that Peter was with him. The game was lousy. The home team lost, but Cooper said it was the best night he had in forever.
Peter said the same. He had fun being in the bleachers, rooting for the home-team. He said it felt normal and that made May's heart swell a little more.
It was late and everyone went off to bed. Clint set up the alarm system for the night, and warned Peter to wait for him in the morning before breaking perimeter. Which, May wasn't quite clear what he meant.
Once May was alone with Peter, she watched her nephew's face fall from the happy glow to the smoldering sorrow he wore in the days prior to the Barton's kids arrival. He shunned May, ignoring her as he quickly got ready for bed, jumping onto the air mattress with his phone tight in his hand. He was texting, choosing to not speak to May once again.
May slipped underneath her covers in the bed. "Peter?"
Nothing. No sound.
May sighed. Still upset. "Good night, Peter," she said. "I love you."
Then she turned off the lights and the room went dark.
May didn't know what woke her up. She suddenly became groggily aware that she was looking around Peter's other bedroom, pushing back her own covers to find the blow-up bed completely empty. May's heart raced, jerking her out of the bed in one quick, fluid movement, but then she heard a soft groan and looked to the window. It was partly opened and on the other side, sat Peter.
She hurried over, throwing the window fully up. "Peter!" she gasped, scared as to why Peter decided to sit right on the roof. "What are you doing?"
Then she heard the sniffle. The sound of a wounded animal. A hurt pride.
May tentatively climbed over the window's ledge, clinging to the rooftop tiles as she awkwardly scaled down to where her nephew perched. The closer she got, the louder his sniffles could be heard.
May cautiously twisted herself into a sitting position right beside Peter. He didn't acknowledge her appearance beside him. And she didn't acknowledge the tears streaming down his face. Only her heart acknowledged the pain.
The quietness grew deeper and May heard her own steady rhythm from within, her thoughts swirling and heart bleeding. She wanted to hug Peter close and wipe those tears away, like she used to do when he was a small boy.
Peter was no longer that small boy. He sucked in a breath, doing his best to not show the hurt in his eyes. "S-Sorry to wake you," he apologized with a haggard breath.
"I got up on my own," Aunt May said, brushing away any fault he might take on. It already looked gutted without feeling guilty for her sudden wakefulness. "Is everything okay?"
Peter rolled in lips into a tight line. "I, um... I-I got a text."
May raised her brows as she glanced down to the phone Peter clutched in his hands.
"It was from Ned," Peter continued as May looked right back to him. "He, um, he said... that... that..."
A choking sob hiccupped out of Peter's mouth. Her nephew dipped his head down, face shadowed by the night.
May immediately scooted closer to her nephew, hand in the center of his back. She started to rub in circular patterns. It'll be okay, she wanted to say, but couldn't.
Peter's were blotchy, red in irritation from the tears he shed. "Mr. Osborn's dead."
May sucked in a sharp breath. That couldn't be right! He was shot, but alive. Stark said he was alive! What happened? Did the surgery not go well?
Peter's breathing became labored. His face crumbled, stress lines creviced to the center of his face as his lips pinched and eyes strained red in an attempt to keep the tears at bay. "A-And… H-Harry… he… he won't… Ned said he's not… not…"
His words became brittle, breaking off in between muffled cries. His face broke freely and he dropped his head, shoulders hunched as he wracked himself in grief.
"Oh Peter…" May pulled Peter to her, taking his head and resting it against her shoulder.
Peter let her, burying his face in the fabric of her pajamas. May held him tight, arms fully embraced as Peter trembled underneath her protective shelter. He cried. Over and over. There were no loud sobs or whines. Only the heaving of breaths of a wrung heart.
Not for Mr. Osborn's death, but for the loss of life, the brokenness of a friendship and the end of innocence for Peter and his group of friends.
May carded her fingers through his hair, patting him gently as he shivered in his arms. He blubbered the rest of the story. Ned summarized the meeting with Harry went and it wasn't good. Ned reported Harry officially cut them out of his life.
And that cut went deep into Peter. He picked his head up from her shoulder. His wide, sore eyes turned right on May. "What do I do, May? Should I call him again? Or… maybe I should go and visit him? Or—"
"Peter," May quietly interrupted him, gently rubbing his back up and down. "It's not something you can fix right away. Harry's going through a difficult time. Like yourself. He needs space. He needs time. He may have said all those things to Ned and MJ, but he just lost his father. And, worse, he found out his father is a murderer. It's not going to be an easy time for Harry in the next couple of weeks. Maybe even years.
"I know you don't want to lose your friend," May went on, watching her words be absorbed in by Peter. "But you have to give him time. Wait for him to come to you."
Peter didn't look hopeful. "What if he doesn't? What if he hates me forever?"
"There's nothing you can say or do to change his mind," May said, although it ached her heart to tell him that. Peter liked Harry. Spoke highly of Harry and enjoyed his easy-going, fun personality. "It know it hurts, and maybe one day, in the near future, you and Harry will be friends again. Maybe not right away. Maybe not in a year. But, if you two were truly friends, you will be friends again."
She hoped she sounded convincing. Deep down, May believed the two would never see each other again. Too many things happened. Too many bad associations to mend the friendship. Too much guilt. Too much shame. Too much to do anything, but to release the pain and continue on.
Yet, May didn't have it in her heart to tell that to Peter. He needed the hope that he and Harry can be friends again.
Until then, May needed to listen to her next words carefully. "Peter—look at me."
Her nephew raised his eyes up to her. A pleading desperation to have an answer to the madness plaguing him.
May gripped Peter's shoulders, keeping her eyes locked on him. Never wavering. "You are not at fault for what happened to Norman Osborn," she asserted. "Or even for what happens afterwards. Norman is—was—an adult. He made those horrible choices. He chose to be a murderer—a criminal. Not you."
Peter rubbed his nose clean with his sleeves. "Yeah, I know," he said, sniffling. "It's just… I feel responsible!"
"You're not responsible," May stressed again. "You were only a boy! Still are. You did nothing. Everything that went wrong was all on Norman Osborn. Not you."
"But Harry—"
It was never easy to lose a friend. Even worse when the reason for the fall-out was outside their control.
"Harry can think that, but it's not true," May said. "You were only five, Peter. And even now, you didn't ask to be dragged into Norman's delusions. You didn't ask to be kidnapped. Hell—I'm sure Stark didn't want to get shot. Just because bad things happen doesn't mean it's your fault. You're not guilty, Peter.
"I know you take things to heart. Way too much," May said to Peter. "I remember how broken you were when Ben died. And I know you blame yourself for it. More so now that I know you had powers back then. But again, Ben made his choice to confront an armed thief. Just like Norman made his choice to kill your parents and try to kidnap you. You didn't make those choices and even though they affected you, you didn't have anything to do with it."
Peter took a deep breath, pulling his knees to his chest. "I know, but it still sucks, May," he croaked out. "It really, really sucks."
It was hard to not cry for her nephew. To see his agonized look of a lost friendship. A friendship he enjoyed and abruptly destroyed in a single night. And May wasn't talking about the previous night. She was talking about the night Peter's parents died.
The moment Norman ordered their deaths was the moment that their lives all changed. It diverted Peter's path. It brought him to her. To her and Ben's care. To the spider-bite. To Tony Stark. To the Avengers. To Secretary Ross. To now. To this very moment on the rooftop of Hawkeye's home.
Nothing Peter could do or say would change the situation. It wouldn't bring the dead back to life. It wouldn't magically wipe away memories or mend broken bonds of friendship. Nothing would change the outcome they currently faced.
"You are a good person, Peter," May said, using her thumb to wipe away a runaway tear from Peter's flushed cheek. "You don't deserve any of this and I am sorry this happened to you. I really am. I want nothing more for you than for you to live the rest of your life in peace and happiness."
She felt a tear slip from her own eyes, throat constricting. When a child cries, a parent cries too. Like any parent, she never want to see her child endure in any pain. If she had any powers, it would be to erase the tragedies of her nephew's past. Rewrite him a happy beginning. He deserved it. Of all the people in the world, May believed Peter deserved a happy life. Not this Greek tragedy.
Peter quietened his cries, Tear-stained tracks ran down his cheeks, but the tears were gone. He had no more tears left to cry. "I know," he murmured. "And I… I want to say that I'm… I'm glad I have you in my life."
May was taken aback for a second.
But, Peter continued on. "I know these past few years haven't been easy for you with everything that has happened to us," he went on, cleaning up his wet face with the ends of his sleeves. "You're the strongest person I know. You've been so resilient, taking on extra shifts and supporting me as Spider-man. Even when I was younger, you and Uncle Ben took me in, raised me as your own son and everything. Loved me like I was your son.
"I get why you kept this thing a secret," Peter finally said. "And, I'm sorry that I got angry with you and I don't—"
"You don't have to apologize."
Peter blinked. "Of course I do! I—"
"Peter?" May interrupted him again, shaking her head slowly to reiterate her message. "You never have to apologize to me about how you feel. You had the right to be mad at me. You had the right to be hurt. I understand. And yes, I thought I was doing the right thing keeping it away from you, so you could live with some normalcy after everything, but it wasn't right of me to hide the truth about your parents. They were your mother and father, and they loved you so much. It's not fair what happened to you and your parents. You should have been raised by them."
Peter's eyes shined again. "… but then I wouldn't have you as my mom."
May's throat burned and constricted. Heart plunged hearing Peter call her 'mom'. He never outright said that to her. Nor did she outright call him 'son'. But, it always felt like that. She looked at Peter and saw her child. Her son. And she loved him more than anything in the world. Including Ben Parker.
May opened her arms again and Peter fell right in them. Both holding each other. Both silently and lovingly crying as they squeezed each other tighter, knowing that the other was their anchor. Keeping them grounded with promises that tomorrow and the day after tomorrow would be better.
Things would get better.
They had each other.