Earth, New York, Queens
"Hello, you've somehow managed to reach rich, famous, brilliant, devastatingly handsome superhero Tony Stark. At the moment, I have better things to do than answer your call. If you're feeling optimistic, leave a message and maybe I'll—"
Peter hung up the phone at that point. He'd heard the message so many times, he had the rest of it memorized, anyway.
The web-garbed teenager sighed in frustration, sliding his Stark brand phone into his suit's utility belt. Mr. Stark had given it to him, and insisted that Peter only ever use that to contact his mentor, in order to keep Peter's secret identity between the two of them. Peter was grateful to him for that, certainly, but it would be nice if he'd actually answer it once in a while.
Peter, aka Spider-Man, was currently clinging to the wall of a convenience store, overlooking a dead end alleyway, having just finished his morning patrol. Today had been unexciting, even by his standards, with nothing but a handful of purse snatchers, and a guy who tried to rob a florist. All had been webbed up and hung by their ankles from lampposts. With no more small time criminals to occupy his time, he'd decided to try and call Mr. Stark for the third time in as many days. The texts and voice messages he'd left previously had gone unanswered, and this day didn't appear to be breaking that cycle. Peter understood that Mr. Stark was one of very few Avengers active right now, and as a result, Iron Man probably had to handle the majority of the work himself. Sure, he could be on a mission right now, but it wouldn't have killed him to take his phone along, and inform Peter that he was, in fact, busy right now, before hanging up. Spider-Man would've been satisfied with an annoyed "Call me in a couple days, kid," maybe with the sound of gunfire or something in the background. That wouldn't be good, but at least Peter would know for sure that Mr. Stark had better things to do.
The teenager's desire to get ahold of Iron Man wasn't trivial. Since Germany, Peter had felt uncomfortable, considering he'd been assigned to attack Steve Rogers, A.K.A. Captain America, a man who's name was taught in classrooms, and who everyone who'd ever taken a history class knew as an international hero. At the time, Peter had just gone along with it, mostly to impress Mr. Stark (he'd slapped himself for that one later), but now, having taken a few steps back, and examined the entire situation, he had concerns, even if Captain Rogers was wanted by the law.
Even worse was the debacle of the Sokovia Accords. Peter had read the transcript online in the aftermath, and learned how Captain America and those who'd fought beside him had refused to sign them, while Stark had. Unfortunately, the Accords seemed to amount to placing the Avengers, people who'd saved the world time and again, under the control of a bureaucratic panel, who'd only allow them to operate if they decided it was okay. Essentially, Peter thought it was little better than turning the Avengers into government attack dogs. Peter had seen the footage of all of the Avengers public incidents that had resulted in civilian casualties, heck he'd even been in New York during the Invasion, but the Avengers were the good guys. They protected people, and it was thanks to them that everyone was alive. Yet the U.N. had basically called them outlaws, blamed them for the deaths of innocents, told them not to act unless they agreed. What if people died while they were debating? What if some politician managed to take control, and the Avengers were forced to hold up regimes of dictators in other countries?
It was tearing Peter apart inside. If he'd known he was siding with the Accords on the day he battled Captain America in Germany, he wasn't sure he would've gone alongside Stark. Yes, Captain America had broken the law, and ignored due process in helping James Barnes, the Winter Soldier (though, evidence had been released that proved Barnes wasn't responsible for the Vienna bombing, at least), but maybe he had a point about the Sokovia Accords. All Peter could think of was to try and contact Stark, ask him why he had decided to give up all autonomy, and pray that Stark had a good enough justification.
Looking across the sky, Peter suddenly got an idea. He knew where the Avengers compound currently was, and could probably hitch a ride on top of somebody's car. Getting in shouldn't be too much of a problem, although he really hoped Stark would actually be there, and he wouldn't get shot at by security, or fried by automatic defense systems. Thankfully, it was the beginning of summer, which meant no school. There was only one other factor to take care of.
Peter sorted through the pockets of his belt, eventually finding his own, considerably cheaper, cell phone. Punching in a familiar number, he hit the call button.
"Hey, Aunt May," he said as soon as she picked up. "Yeah, I'm just hanging out at the library. I know, but I get cooped up in the apartment. I'm always careful on the subway, don't worry. So, the reason I called is because Mr. Stark wants to pick me up for an assignment with the internship. Uh-huh...uh-huh...yeah, I know you don't like him that much, but he's safe. And he's responsible around me. Uh-huh...about a day, maybe more, I think. No, he can just pick me up. Trust me, it'll be less of a pain for all of us. No, if I'm gone longer, I'll definitely call you. I promise. Okay, I'll be safe. Yeah, no drinking. I love you, too. Bye."
Peter hung up the phone. Now for the hard part of his "brilliant" plan. He leaped off the brick wall, firing a web line and yanking on it, launching himself over the building in front of him. At least he had time to relax on the way there.
Earth, Iowa, Waverly*
He wasn't used to this kind of indecisiveness. Sitting on his rear, his prized bow in its collapsed form, alongside a customized suitcase full of arrows and arrowheads sitting in front of him. He'd gotten as far as donning the same uniform he'd worn during the battle in Germany, but no further. It was as though he were uncommitted to the mission at hand, procrastinating for as long as possible. While he was perfectly willing to do it, he was admittedly stalling, for obvious reasons. At least he wasn't in denial.
Clint put his hand on his forehead. Steve and Natasha had implored him not to come. They told him he'd done his part. He needed to just focus on his family, take care of them, and let his friends deal with the impending catastrophe on another planet. But the archer's mind wouldn't let him. He couldn't just stand by, while Steve, Nat, Vision, Sam, and the others were fighting for the lives of innocents. Not to mention Stark and Rogers were probably coming dangerously close to killing each other by now.
"You've been looking at that thing for close to ten minutes," said Laura, standing in the doorway. Clint turned in his seat, having not even heard her come in. He swore, she was as stealthy as Natasha sometimes, it was scary. "Trying to will it to life?"
Clint chuckled. "Yeah, a sentient bow," he laughed. "That'll take my place on the team."
Laura came fully into the room, sitting down next to her husband.
"If you're waiting for my permission," she told him, "you already have it. You always have it."
"Yeah, I know," Clint replied, almost grudgingly. Sometimes, he wished she was against him being an Avenger at all. It would certainly make it easier for him to refuse to do it, give him a hope of actually retiring. Yes, he knew how bad it was to hope that his wife would give him an excuse to quit, but in desperate times, one hoped for odd things.
"I know that you believe in me," Clint continued. "I know that Cooper, Lily, and Nathan believe in me. And I know that they need me, despite me being just a guy who's really good at archery. But still..."
"Going to a planet full of talking horses?" asked Laura. Clint gave her the look. "You weren't very quiet on the phone, you know."
Clint quietly cursed to himself under his breath. He knew he needed to kick that habit.
"You're my family," Clint murmured. "You're my responsibility. And I already broke my promise that I was going to retire by rushing off to help Captain America, which, might I add, got me arrested and now I'm a wanted criminal. The only reason I can still stay here is because Ross is too stupid to find out that you exist or where this place is. I can't keep—"
Laura threw her arms around his neck. When they started dating, she would get him to stop talking by kissing him, but they'd outgrown that. Now, all it took was a simple touch, and it cemented Clint's belief that he'd chosen the right woman to spend the rest of his life with. Clint returned the hug, quietly leaning into Laura's shoulder.
"Remember when you told me about your childhood?" she asked. "How Barney ran off with those two guys in the circus, and ended up on some most wanted list? How you felt like you'd failed in your responsibility to your big brother?" She moved back, looking her husband in the eye. "That wasn't your fault, and based on what you told me, Barney was long gone before then. But the thing is, when you look back on your past, you regret the things you didn't do. If you don't go with your friends...even if they come back okay, you'll regret it, and you'll feel like you didn't do enough. I don't want you to live with that feeling for the rest of your life."
Clint smiled genuinely. "You were always smarter than me on these topics," he said.
"We'll be fine for a little while," Laura said. "And we know that you'll come home. You always do."
Clint got to his feet. "You're right," he said, picking up the bow,."Just one more mission." They both had a good laugh at that.
A few minutes later, Clint, fully suited up, stood on the front porch of his home. Cooper, Lily, and Laura had all come out to see him off. Even Nathaniel, toddling on the legs he'd just barely learned how to use, was standing alongside them.
"Good luck, dad," said Lily, hugging her father's leg.
"You make sure you ask those alien ponies to come to my birthday party!" demanded Cooper. "The other kids will never get over it!"
"What, having the Avengers come to a party wouldn't be big enough?" asked Clint. "I bet I could get Captain America's autograph for everyone!"
Cooper's face fell a little bit. "Yeah, but sometimes, they talk about how he's a criminal, and he's going to jail," he responded. "I know they're lying, but they'd try to call the police on him. I'm trying not to be friends with them, but..."
"Don't worry," said Clint, patting his son's head. "We'll prove them wrong."
Nathan made his cooing noises (he could say a few words now, among them Dad, but sometimes he didn't feel like it), as Clint held him close. Finally, he turned to his wife once more.
"You'll be fine," Laura said simply. "I'll hold you to that."
"I know you will," Clint answered. "But you won't have to."
Clint kissed Laura, his skin carrying the promise of the lives he would save, on this planet, or any. Then he climbed down the steps, setting off towards the barn. T'Challa had been kind enough to provide him with a small jet ship upon helping him escape from the Raft. Now was the time to put it to good use.