Archive of Our Own ^beta

Life has been tough for Laura lately.

Laura sighed as the warm memory washed over her. It felt like only yesterday that her family's monthly picnic had filled the yard with laughter. She swear could still see the bright sun shining down, hear her children's joyful giggles as they played across her. She remembered asking Clint to fetch some food and drinks from the kitchen.

But most of all, she remembered the warmth, the warmth of love enveloping her as she sat surrounded by her family, and then suddenly, it silence.

Just from a blink of an eye, it was gone and then in the next blink Laura found herself back in the yard. But, she notice—it was different

Because now, she was five years older— Five years of her life had simply slipped away in the span of a seconds.

Five years of their-her life had passed just like that.

Laura stood in the middle of her kitchen. It was quiet, and the air felt a bit colder, though not enough to chill her to the bone. She held her hot tea, which tasted as usual—just right. But despite all of this, there was something strange weighing on her heart more and more each day.

Well, so much had changed since that day. There was little time to process what had happened. At least, when Laura returned to the middle of her yard, the confusion and panic set in start kick in a minute after. Her husband was nowhere in sight. On top of that, the last thing she remembered was watching helplessly as her children disappeared before her eyes.

Actually, It only took three seconds for her world to change forever.

In that brief moment, she watched helplessly as her children turned to dust before her eyes. She counted each painful moment as they faded, unable to look away from the horror that was unfolding.

So when they returned, for a while after that she refused to accept the changes. But she knew, everything around her had changed. Beacuse, as Laura began to understand the gratitude of their situation, so many changes were difficult to comprehend.

In the five years since they came back, not all of them returned—at least, not for her husband image that she knew.

Filled with grief and loss, Clint changed. She noticed it—the moment their eyes met and his hug engulf them. Silent whispers of tears and longing passed the small family. It drowning her.

It’s suffocating

Because….Laura knew, this wasn't the Clint she knew and left behind.

This wasn't her Clint and this version of Clint now, scared her.

And no…, not because of the dry blood that left in some of his outfits, or new scars that she found in his body not long after that - no, It's not because all of that.

What the thing that scared her is because this version of Clint reminded her too much like in their early days as an agent. More like a weapon than her loving husband that she always knew, and It terrified her.

From time to time after time goes by, she would silently flinched when her husband came around her. The warning alarm in her body that she once forgotten since she left her job, blaring every time her husband came up behind her. It felt wrong.

It felt wrong, because this’s Clint that she talking about. Her husband.

However, she knew that this happened outside their control. Everyone, not just her, got affected in some ways. She watch the news and SHIELD actually brief her too a bit with some information and report to keep up—to understand.

And, she knew that in this situation it was not only her that got hurt, Clint too. Way more than he wanted to admit. Because the kids and her were gone, however for Clint, he stayed (That was actually the first things she checked in the report. She need to confirm it).

For 5 years, he grieving over them.

For those five painful years, she knows Clint has been drowning in guilt.

Because she knows him. She knows her husband.

Fall arrived earlier than she wanted, and she found her husband sitting silently on their terrace chair, staring into the distance. The view from their house looked beautiful (even though she could still spot the damage marks of weapons on some of the tree trunks).

“Hey, honey,” he said softly, holding her hand against his cheek. She joined him, sitting on the chair, enjoying the quiet view with her hot tea.

Silence wrapped around them. This is nice, she thought. Clint held her hands, shifting closer to her.

“Did you hear? Robbie’s family is moving to Romania.”

“Robbie? The little boy who was in the same club as Cooper?”

“Yeah, that’s him. Although, he’s not so little anymore. Growth spurt hit him like a train laat time I saw him.”

“Ah…really? It feels like forever since I last saw all the kids’ friends.” Clint nodded, but his smile faltered. The stiffness in his shoulders didn’t go unnoticed.

“Clint….are you okay?”

A long pause followed. “Why do you ask?”

She hesitated. Part of her wanted to confront him, but she knew—not yet.

“Honey, don’t you think it’s a shame that we have this big backyard and never actually use it?”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“What if we pick a day and have a picnic? With everyone.”

“Huh?”

She laughed at the look of confusion on his face. He looked adorable. “Yeah, everyone. Your ‘colleagues’ and if they are not busy, we can even invite Nick and Maria too.”

“Wait… you mean the Avengers?”

“Yes, and tell them to bring their families too. Didn’t I hear that Stark has a daughter and a son now?”

“Son? Ah…the spider kid?”

“Aren’t they? I mean, I get the feeling the Stark’s so parental with that kid”

“Fair enough. Tony would deny it to death, but honestly? He doesn’t even try to hide it.”

“Oh, interesting.” She grinned. “So… what do you think?”

Their conversation ended with Clint reluctantly agreeing to Laura’s request after she mentioned how much she missed Pepper and the others.

The last time they had a gathering was for Nathaniel’s first birthday. Somehow, Clint had been roped into hosting the whole team at his house after his kids request to meet all the team again. It was fun, though.

Natasha and Wanda helped Laura in the kitchen. Pepper and Vision handled setting up the dining table. Tony and Bruce hung decorations on the walls. The rest of them floated around the living room, doing whatever Laura assigned them. Even Maria dropped by with a gift too. Although, she leave soon after there's another pesky call from SHIELD.

Not gonna lie, it was hilarious seeing the world’s most high profile heroes hanging out like that. Definitely one of his top ten memories. But still…he couldn’t shake the feeling that it was all just fleeting—temporary.

That’s why it was so hard for him to say no to them. Even though they’d toasted and broken up more times than he could count (or whatever Tony always whining about), they were still a family—his deranged family. He missed them...especially, after the last battle and everything that had happened over the past five years.

They understood him.

So here he was, spending his weekend putting together a last-minute invitation on Canva (Lila insisted it had to be “aesthetic”—or whatever kids say these days), and sending it out personally to everyone. Most people just read it without replying, but a few got back to him (thanks though to the spider kid, Scott, and Groot. Also, surprisingly Wong and Maria too)

They settled the date, six months from their last conversation after carefully checking based on “the official schedule” for Clint’s avenging duties shared from SHIELD. Honestly, Clint didn’t expect that Laura really this determined to get as many people as possible to come.

Two days after sending out the invites, Clint got a text from Stark. Apparently, Tony had already wired some money to their account as his “contribution” to the party and mentioned that he was “in communication” with Laura about picnic arrangements (as expected from Stark to be honest)

When Clint asked Laura about it, she just waved him off, saying, “Don’t worry about it. I’m not losing to Stark’s passive aggressive attempts to take over.”

Classic Laura.

Time moved quickly, and before they knew it, the morning of the event arrived. It was chaotic (at least, in Cooper’s opinion. He definitely wasn’t a fan of being woken up this early by his mom).

Laura, as expected, was already dressed and buzzing around the house, getting everything ready. Clint joined not long after, helping out in the kitchen and their backyard. They were serving his fresh catch from the week, turning the whole thing into a feast.

Natasha had been popping in and out of their house over the past few days, hanging out with the kids, helping them shopping the groceries and set up some decorations. The kids adored her, and Laura was happy to have her friend around again.

But, there was an unspoken tension between Clint and Natasha. To anyone else, it looked like nothing, just two old friends catching up and being awkward. But…they both knew there was something unresolved—something left over from their last team up.

Because when she was gone—Clint had grieved. And now, that she was back—all he felt was guilt.

One day, she knocked on his door, looking fresh with new hair color and casual clothes. Clint remembered her expression (relaxed on the surface, but her mannerisms gave her away). Both of them were pros, so it was easy for him to catch the stiffness, the fleeting glances, the restrained smile (She wasn’t even trying to hide it actually).

It was rough. He’d been so angry with her actions that he almost lashed out, but instead, he pulled her into a tight hug. He held her close, needing to make sure she was real—that she wasn’t some fragment of his imagination, a trick of his mind slipping into reality.

They talked after that. A short, quiet conversation about how and why. She explained that Cap had made a deal with that annoying reaper from Vormir. Natasha, almost in a whisper, mentioned that even though she’d come back, part of her still had to be sacrificed. He noticed, she spoke about it like she didn’t want to face it, but Clint had a guess (he hated the idea, but he suspected it was something to do with her age).

Laura came in with tea and joined the conversation. Natasha pulled her into a tight hug, missing her just as much as Clint had missed his friend. The three of them shared a history of working together. Though Natasha and Clint were close, it was actually Laura who had known Natasha first. So, it surprised her too, that the friend everyone had told her was gone, was now standing in front of her.

After that, Natasha stayed for the night, crashing on one of their guest room.

“Do you think everyone gonna come?.” Asked their youngest kids

Since the kids heard that their mom want to make a picnic for everyone. It’s been exciting news for them. The kids, although is already in their teenage years, but they still remember vividly the fun they felt when the last time they met them.

It’s a fun time.

As everyone expect, the Stark’s arrive first (not counting Natasha since she's been there a week earlier).

The moment Clint open the door he can see Tony and his small family behind him. Peter carry Morgan on his hand, while Potts in the middle of talking with another woman which he assume is Peter aunt (He remembered her face from one of the videos that they watched once in the Stark compilation video of the kid, secrets between three of them). Happy and Rhodes, is on call a bit far from them.

For someone that didn’t want “family”, to have a full set of peoples in his side it’s impressive in Clint opinion.

“Hola, Barton,” Tony greeted as he strolled into the living room, sunglasses on with his new bionic arm gleaming subtly under the afternoon sun (courtesy of Wakanda, naturally).

Recovery had been slow for Tony. Messy. Quiet in all the wrong places. But steady. He woke up groggy, hurting, confused, but alive. Shuri basically set up a mini-lab right outside his door, the moment he’s awaked. It worked though. Faster than anyone expected. So fast, that by the time before Tony could fully argue, they’d already booked him for fittings and scans to build him a new arm, one to replace the one he'd lost after the Snap.

T’Challa had called it a gift. “Non-negotiable,” he’d said with that calm, royal finality that didn’t really leave room for rebuttal. Which also meant don’t even try it, Stark, and Tony didn’t.

He could’ve built one himself, sure. Given a couple months, some decent tools, and maybe a third less nerve damage. But he decide didn’t. Because hate to admit it he maybe didn’t feel like going back anytime soon into a lab just to rebuild something torn from him in a blaze of pain and light.

For once, maybe he just wanted to be. Not fix. Not fight. Just breathe—maybe it was the exhaustion (or maybe it was the quiet voice in the back of his head saying, Let them take care of you. Just this once)

Still, nothing about his life had ever stayed simple.

What started as a Wakandan project turned into kinda galactic group project. The Guardians brought in alloys Tony couldn’t even pronounce, from planets he wasn’t sure Earth had legally made contact with yet. Thor dropped off some shiny, ancient Asgardian metal wrapped in a napkin from a pub, while casually mentioned “Just in case you need to punch a god again.” (Tony hoped that was a joke. Mostly).

Carol handed over a shard of star core like she was offering leftover dessert. “It’s stable now,” she said with a shrug. “Probably.”

And somehow, all that came together. Shuri called it ‘ masterpiece of necessity.’ While on the other hand, Tony just saw it as ‘a very expensive way to butter toast.’

The arm was sleek, adaptive, quietly terrifying. Hidden weapons tucked into the bionic arm with auto repair nodes and somehow, a defense system smart enough to dodge mid argument with Pepper. One of a kind, literally.

And definitely, the most over engineered and expensive limb ever designed for a human. But still, most days, Tony just used it to open juice boxes for Morgan and high five Peter.

“Hope you didn't start the party yet.” He scans the decor of his living room, silently judging it. “Also, where’s my nemesis is?”

Pepper come after him, “Hi Clint, hope we're not come to early. I'm already try my best to hold him to come more a bit late, but you know how he’s” she sighs.

“Don’t worry about it, beside it’s always nice to have extra hands being told around by Laura”

Tailing behind him is May with half burnt sponge cake that he assume she tried to make by herself and warm smile, handing it to him “Hi, nice to finally meet you properly Mr. Barton. Thank you so much for inviting me and Peter too”

“No the pleasure is mine Ms. Parker and please call me Clint. I have enough of your kid keep calling me Mr.Barton haha. Well, I heard so much about you from Tony actually. Thank you for the cake, Laura will love it for sure”

May a bit supprised that Tony talked about her response, “Oh!, well I hope only the nice things”

“Yes, yes of course!”

After the family come in, Clint could already see the spider kid getting dragged off by Morgan and Cooper to the backyard, being followed by the other's kids.

Honestly, it still amazed him how kids were just... social. Effortless. Like blending in came naturally to them. On the other hand, poor Peter looked like he was about to spend the whole day being chased around by a small army of children.

Peter, The boy. The reason they were all here (such a sweet kid—too sweet, in Clint’s opinion).

They first propered met after the war, when everyone had been moved to Wakanda’s recovery hospitals. The place was hectic. People were everywhere, searching for loved ones, clinging to whoever made it back. Trying to reconnect with a world that had moved on without them.

Clint remembered the hugs, the tears, the names whispered into the air. Too many emotions. Too much noise (he turned off his hearing aid, just to dull it all a bit).

He walked the crowded hospital corridors, looking for the quietest place he could find. Tried, being the key word. Eventually, he came across a dim corner near the operating wing where Tony had been checked in. The lights were low, softer than the rest of the floor. He hadn’t even known the hospitals had lighting like that.

That’s when he saw him. A kid, small and still, sitting alone on one of the waiting chairs. Bandages on his arms and face. He looked tense, even though his body had slumped like he was trying to disappear.

“Hey…” Clint greeted softly.

Peter flinched, startled by the sudden presence. He looked up and blinked in recognition. “Oh…hi, Mr. Hawkeye.” he said, a little awkwardly.

“Mr. Hawkeye?” Clint raised an eyebrow. “Geez, kid, just call me Clint. I think after the battle, we’ve moved past formalities.”

“Uhm... well...”

Clint sat beside him. They didn’t say anything for a solid five minutes. Just sat there in the dim, heavy silence. Clint noticed some dried blood on the kid’s clothes, maybe leftover from when he’s changed from his suit, he thought.

“You waiting for Tony?” he asked.

“Uhm... no…maybe.” Peter hesitated. “Actually, it’s just... every other place is too loud. Too much. So, I just kinda... ended up here.”

“Ah, I get it” Clint nodded. “Same for me, honestly.”

“Really?”

“Yup. Tony told me once your senses like go into overdrive because of your powers sometimes, right?”, (—not exactly true, Tony never told him that. Clint had read it in a SHIELD report about the people who got dusted. Bits and pieces. Enough).

Peter looked surprised. “Oh… he talked about me?”

“Well, not directly,” Clint said, scratching the back of his neck. “But I might have caught him watching one of your vlogs once. We talked a bit after that.” (—Also not entirely true. Clint had seen the clips Tony pulled from Peter’s suit during their drunk gathering. But no need to make Tony sound like some creep watching kid videos).

“I didn’t think he ever watched those,” Peter admitted. “I sent them when we’d just started knowing each other. After a while, I figured he wasn’t interested, so I stopped.”

“Hhhmm…I don’t think that’s true, kid.”

“Why not?”

Clint exhaled, leaning back. “Tony’s the type who acts like he doesn’t care, but his heart’s too damn big for that. People think he’s cold, but really, he’s just careful. Hhhmm, you know I’ve got a family, right?”

“Oh yeah,….Mr. Stark said you retired to be with them.”

“Well…that was the plan,” Clint chuckled quietly. “But, full retirement in this job? you know it’s kinda hard. Still, I tried. Disappeared for a bit from everyone. No contact. Not even with Nat.”

“Why?”

“Well,” Clint paused, “I wanted to prove to my family that I meant it. That I was really trying to focus on them. But, there was this one moment... I had a small accident. Nearly exposed them. Some people came close to finding out too much, and I was ready to track down every last one of them. But you know, the moment I stepped outside there was a box in front of my door. Wrapped neatly. Inside was a disk and a little note. It said, ‘Don’t worry, I handled the rat. Enjoy retirement, Legolas’.”

He smiled slightly at the memory. “That’s when I knew he was still keeping tabs on me––on everyone. Making sure I could stay out. Making sure I could be a present dad.”

“And, I think that was around the time he met you.”

Peter blinked, eyes wide. Clint continued, quieter now. Looked over at him.

“Tony’s got a big heart kid. Always has. He just very sucks at showing it. But, when you live your life as Tony Stark, you gotta learn to keep people at arm’s length. Not because you want to, but because you have to. His enemies don’t go after him... they go after the people he cares about. That’s why he was so weird about Pepper. Took him years to admit how much he love her. And I’m guessing you’ve felt it too right?, how he flickers sometimes between caring and acting like he doesn’t. That’s just how he’s built.”

Peter listened, really listened. Clint could tell.

Peter is a smart kid, good at reading people—always has been. But with Mr. Stark...there was always that uncertainty Peter notices, but didn’t want to admit it. Was he a mentor? A friend? A father figure?. He never sure about it.

Because, sometimes he’d take Peter out for a sandwich at Delmar’s. Sometimes he’d help with school projects or talk him through panic attacks after a bad night in the suit. Sometimes he’d just show up to brunch with May like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Peter noticed it all. But that line, what they were to each other always felt blurry—or maybe that was just because he was Tony Stark.

They sat in silence again after that. But this time, it felt different. Not heavy. Just quiet.

Peter leaned back on the chair, letting out a slow breath. Clint could tell he was still thinking, still sorting through everything.

“Sometimes I wish I said something more,” Peter muttered, eyes focused on nothing. “Like… more thank you. Or just… made it clearer, you know? That I really looked up to him. Not just the suit and the tech stuff, but him.”

Clint nodded. “I think he knew.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. He wasn’t the best with words either, remember? But he showed up. Always did, and that’s what matters.”

Peter sat quietly. His fingers fidgeted with the edge of the bandage on his wrist.

“Mr. Barton…” he said, voice barely above a whisper, “do you think… he’s gonna survive?” Clint didn’t answer right away.

He looked at the kid—really looked. The bruises, the exhaustion under his eyes, the way his voice cracked.

Tony was in surgery at that moment. The damage from the last stand was bad. Real bad, and Clint had seen enough battlefields to know that even with the best doctors in Wakanda, it was a coin toss.

“…I don’t know, kid,” Clint finally said, honest but gentle. “But if anyone’s stubborn enough to make it through a mess like this… it’s Stark.”

Peter nodded slowly. His shoulders slumped, but there was something in his eyes—some kind of fragile hope, still flickering.

Clint looked away. His jaw tightened. He wasn’t great at this kind of thing. Never had been. He had three kids, sure, but it was always Laura who handled the emotional stuff. She had the words. He didn’t.

Still, he turned back and placed a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. He’ll come back in no time.”

Peter didn’t respond. He just nodded again and went quiet.

They sat like that for a while. Time passed slowly, the hospital lights humming quietly overhead. Doctors moved in and out of rooms. A few hours later, Happy arrived with Rhodey, May and Pepper. Peter stood up immediately, his whole face lighting up.

Happy and Rhodey stepped in first, tired as hell. Behind him was Pepper carrying a sleepy Morgan in her arms, eyes red but relieved. And May—she walked straight to Peter, pulled him into a tight hug, and held on.

Clint stood up, giving them space. Pepper glanced over at him, her expression soft but worn. “Thank you for staying with him,” she said quietly.

Clint gave a small nod. “Of course.”

“SHIELD gave me an update,” she continued. “Laura’s waiting for you—they’re safe. You should go home Clint.”

Clint exhaled through his nose. “She’s okay?”

“She’s fine,” Pepper said. “A little disoriented and worried for you, but proud regardless. The news broadcasted some of the bits of the battle and SHIELD give her update”

He nodded again. “Okay…I see. Thanks Pepper.”

Peter looked back at him, eyes still wide. Unsure. Clint offered a small smile—a quiet I’m heading out kind of look. Then he gave one last glance toward the family and turned, stepping quietly out of the room.

He wandered some random hallways until he spotted a sorcerer down at the end. Barely awake, eyes half lidded (looking as tired as he did).

“Hey,” Clint said. “Mind opening one of those fancy portals?”

The sorcerer just gave him a long look, then nodded. In no time, after he give them his coordinate, a soft golden shimmer opened in the air.

Clint stepped through.

The moment he landed in his living room, the noise and presence hit him. Laura stood in the hallway, arms crossed, trying to look stern but clearly relieved. “About time,” she said, voice gentle.

Clint walked over and hugged her without a word. Just held on.

Later that night, after Laura had gone to bed and the house had finally quieted, Clint sat out on the terrace. A glass of whatever was closest in hand.

He let the night wrap around him. Crickets in the distance, wind brushing the trees, and the quiet hum of a house that finally felt like home again. He let his thoughts wandered. Back to the mess. Back to the people they lost. His grief over Natasha and Vision. Also, back to the kid—Peter.

The boy who somehow pulled Tony Stark—the most complicated, guarded man Clint had ever known back into the fight. Who made him risk his peace, his quiet lake life, the little world he’d built with his little family.

Not the world, Clint thought. Not the Avengers, not redemption, not some grand last stand. Just one person.

And, Clint remembered the exact moment Tony admitted it.

It was the night before the time heist. Just a few hours before they were supposed to jump back into the past. The compound was mostly quiet. Everyone had gone to bed early, either anxious or pretending not to be.

It was just three of them, tucked away in the kitchen with half a bottle of whiskey, a plate of leftovers from the lunch that Cap cooked earlier on that day, and the kind of exhaustion that made honesty easier.

Just three guys who couldn’t sleep and didn’t want to say why.

They sat around the kitchen island like a bunch of dads hiding from their responsibilities—though technically, all three were dads. Because, that was the unspoken thread and somehow, that’s the start of their secret little club.

Clint remembered the mood. Heavy, but still somehow light. Scott cracked dumb jokes, Tony rolled his eyes but didn’t stop him, and Clint just sat there, sipping slowly, watching the two of them banter like the world wasn’t about to be flipped inside out tomorrow.

Then, out of nowhere, Tony got quiet. He was swirling his glass a bit, not looking at them. And then he said it. "This whole thing... I'm doing it because of the kid."

They’d blinked. Tony never just said things like that.

Clint raised an eyebrow. “Kid?”

“Yeah. Peter.” His eyes a little glassy (not drunk, nostalgic). “I couldn’t sleep. Kept thinking about him. The way he looked at me right before he dusted. You ever have that? That moment burned into your head?”

Scott went quiet. Clint didn't answer, but his mind flashed to his own kids, to that damned picnic they never got to finish.

Tony continued, voice a little lower. “Everyone thinks I came back for the world, or to fix the blip, or whatever. But I didn’t. I built that time GPS, figured out the math... because of Peter. That kid…reminded me what it meant to care about something simple. Not saving humanity. Not building a legacy. Just… saving someone.”

Scott raised his glass without a word. Clint just gave a quiet nod and clinked his own against it.

He laughed a little then, soft and self-deprecating. “You two are the only people I’d admit that to from the team, by the way. So don’t go telling Cap or Rocket or anyone. You know what, especially Rocket. I’ve got a reputation to keep!”

Scott had held up his hand like he was swearing in court. Clint just clinked his glass against Tony’s and said, “Club rules.”

That was it…that was the night. Just a moment between them. And now—a day later, sitting on his porch in the quiet hum of home Clint thought will never happen again, he reflected how much sense it all made after that night.

Tony didn’t come back for glory. He didn’t suit up again to fix the world. He did it for Peter and maybe….Clint thought, that kind of selfishness was exactly what they needed. Because Tony Stark—the man who had it all, chose to risk it all, just for a kid (and because of that, they got this second shot).

After everything Tony had shown him—those nights in the kitchen compound when they'd trade stories. How Tony had pulled up footage from Peter’s suit. The vlogs. The rambles. The kid saving cats, carrying groceries for old ladies, nervously giving updates. That clip of him trying to fix his web-shooters with scraps because he was too shy to ask Tony for help.

Even in the news long before the war, he’d seen footage of Spiderman swinging through Queens, stopping petty crimes, helping whoever needed it

“God…” Tony had laughed, “he’s got no idea how brilliant he is.” Clint remembered.

And then there was in the battle. Clint had seen it how the kid fighting not for himself, but for everyone. Webbing falling rubble mid-air. Darting through the chaos to pull teammates out of the line of fire. Always moving, always watching, always protecting.

Also, back in the hospital, Clint noticed too the way Peter clung to Happy, Pepper, and May—not to be held, but to hold them together. Offering them that quiet kind of strength people forget exists in grief.

He was already that kind of hero, and Tony saw it way before anyone else.

Good, without ego. Kind, without needing recognition. The kind of kid who reminded them all what they were fighting to protect. And the kind of hero who still showed up even when no one was watching. When it wasn’t about the world, or some crazy aliens, or even evil secret organizations. When it was literally just about doing the right thing.

Just a kid with too much heart and the kind of quiet courage that could move someone like Tony Stark.

Clint let out a slow breath and looked up at the sky. He remember how Tony mention after that,“He’s gonna be better than all of us”

He’ll do, maybe in the best possible way.

Clint took a slow sip and let his eyes drift upward, into the dark sky. In the soft quiet of his home, he maybe finally understood Tony decision. Because Peter Parker reminded them all what it was like to start caring in the first place.

Clint leaned back, let the night settle into his bones, and muttered, more to himself than anyone, “Yeah... maybe he is.”

A week passed after that.

Clint spent his days fixing the barn, napping on the couch, cleaning the house that they’d—him basically abandoned for years.

Then the message came through SHIELD’s secure line: Stark’s stable.

He stared at the screen for a long time. Read it again. Set it down. No big reaction—just a quiet sense of relief. Like finally letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

Two months later, another message: He’s awake.

Clint didn’t reply. He just stepped outside to the terrace, leaned on the railing, and looked out at the trees.

This time, he smiles.

The sun had climbed high by the time the picnic finally started. Gentle. Not too hot, just warm enough to stretch across the big backyard.

The space was already coming alive: small voices between the clink of dishes, folding chairs and tables scooting across the yards, the low hum of conversation floating under the open sky. Clint set down his beer and muttered that maybe Laura had a point (of course, as she always is). The backyard did look pretty damn good with people in it.

The tables Natasha and the kids had decorated were already full of mismatched plates and folded napkins. From a Bluetooth speaker Lila insisted on setting up, music drifted in and out with the breeze—soft enough to blend with the occasional shriek of laughter from kids running wild like tiny gremlins.

There was so much food. More than anyone could reasonably finish. Grilled beef's. Laura’s mix of homey dishes. Cake from May. Homemade pasta from Janet—Hope’s mom. Asgardian mead (far too strong, as everyone would soon discover). And in the far corner, the absurdly sleek, wildly unnecessary expensive (and of course Stark-funded) slushy and juice machine hissed to life—an early gift Tony had sent a week before with a note that Laura crumpled into her drawer soon after she got it (She was thankful though, kind of).

Truthfully, she’d been up since dawn. Half from nerves, half from excitement. Which was not easy when your husband kept pulling you back into bed like gravity with arms. She hadn’t hosted something this big since Lila birthday—and that had involved a bounce house and one very unfortunate encounter between Barton reflexes and a piñata.

But now here they were again. Laughter began spilling out, voices overlapping like music.

She took a second to watch the chaos bloom. Thor helping Cooper and Groot carry a cooler twice his size while giving overly enthusiastic life advice. Cassie and Shuri leading Morgan and the younger kids on a “spy mission” involving sunglasses and whispered code names. Peter, bless him, trying and failing to escape from Morgan’s tagging game with his usual flustered smile and far too much running for someone in jeans.

Wanda was helping Nat and Bruce hang the last string lights and balloons. Carol and Drax were locked in an arm-wrestling match at a picnic table while Quill and Valkyrie loudly bet against both of them. Rocket was judging everyone. Nebula sat beside him, unimpressed. Sam, Steve, and Bucky had arrived late, mentioned “hero stuff,” and casually dropped off three thermoses of food that smelled suspiciously better than anything they’d brought to past potlucks. (Laura definitely gonna ask Wilson for his mom recipe after this).

Stephen, Hank, and Okoye sat slightly removed from the chaos, sipping drinks with the air of people who’d been emotionally blackmailed into a social event. Wong and Hope were sit next to them, visibly smug with their overpriced ice cream and a cup of neon slushy from the Stark machine. Janet quietly sipping her tea, while smile seeing the childrens running around.

Laura still couldn’t quite believe it. They all came. Even Nick and Maria had made it, though she knew it would be brief. Nick had given her those rare subtle nod—the kind that meant: “You pulled it off. I’m impressed”and she actually managed to gather this many Avengers without anyone punching each others. And for Laura, coming from his ex-Boss that meant something.

It was chaos, but the good kind. The kind that makes you feel like maybe the world hasn’t broken entirely.

She smiled faintly. Still, a nervous knot curled in her stomach that hadn’t eased since morning.

“Need help with the punch?” came Pepper’s voice, slid in softly beside her.

She wore something light and simple, hair pulled back. For a moment, she looked like any other mom at a summer picnic and not a CEO of multibillion company. Hands full of pastries, smile quiet. She looked at ease, but Laura could tell it took effort. There was a quiet tiredness in her smile that mirrored her own.

Laura was at the drink station, refilling pitchers of lemon tea (truthfully, she was avoiding the cursed Stark machine. Luckily, she spotted Happy hovering by it with May, so her avoidance plan was working just fine).

“Oh—hey, no it’s okay. I got it,” Laura said, lining up the cups neatly. She tucked her hair behind her ear, added, “Thanks though.”

“I’m glad it didn’t rain. The forecast’s been all over the place.”

Laura chuckled. “Your husband offered to build me a portable weather stabilizer last Tuesday. I said no, obviously. He still ran tests anyways.”

Pepper laughed softly. “Of course he did.”

They stood in silence for a beat, watching Bruce hand over the grilling tongs to Thor, who immediately tried juggling them and almost set his sleeve on fire.

Pepper glanced sideways. “You pulled this off, really. Thank you, Laura. For organizing it. For… getting us all together again.”

Laura shrugged gently, small smile. “Well, I just wanted a day. One day where no one’s saving the world. No aliens. No press conferences. Just… normal.”

Pepper took a sip of tea. “You gave us that. And everything looks beautiful, by the way.”

Laura sighed, half-laughing. “I needed this. We all did.”

They stood side by side, watching the flow of it all. The way the kids running around between tables. The way Steve leaned back laughing. The way Wanda looked, finally, like she wasn’t carrying the weight of grief and everything for once.

At a corner, Rhodey, Tony, and Clint talking about living in the countryside—Clint offering sarcastic survival tips, Rhodey pretending to be unimpressed despite knowing Tony had actually tried half of them.

Laura followed Pepper’s gaze and asked quietly, “How did you do it?”.

Pepper looked over. “Do what?” But her face shifted when she caught the unease on Laura’s. “Everything okay?”

Laura hesitated before speaking again, her voice quieter. “Pep… can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“How’d you handle him?” she asked. “All the versions. The changes. The grief. You know what Tony’s been through. He’s been rebuilt more times than anyone can count I guess. Afghanistan , the wormhole, Sokovia and the accords mess, losing Peter, the Snap… Every time he came back a little more different. How did you stay beside him through all of it?”

Pepper didn’t answer right away. Her eyes drifted to where Tony was crouched down letting Morgan crown him in plastic tiaras. Clint and Rhodey took pictures, while Peter tried not to burst out laughing.

“I didn’t always know how,” she said finally. “Most of the time, I was figuring it out in real time.”

She let the moment stretch. Pepper can see how Tony who listening to Rhodey and Clint, pretending to be uninterested after the kids back to the group with Tiara in his head, but she knows. Tony actually keeping a careful eye on Morgan and Peter (—always Peter).

“He came back different every time. There were nights I thought I lost him. And not just physically—I mean, he was there, but his mind was somewhere else entirely.” Her tone soft, worn from years of loving a man like him.

She took a breath, continued. "After Afghanistan, he couldn’t sleep. For months. Silence made him panic. Loud noises made him worse. Sometimes... just being near him made him flinch. He built suits like lifeboats. One for every version of himself he didn’t know how to live with. And every time something broke him, I had to meet a new version of the man I married. And figure out how to love him again. Some versions were easier than others though.”

One of the reasons Laura was excited for this picnic was to see Pepper again. Because if there was anyone who could understand what she’d been feeling, really get it—it was her. She’d stayed through so many versions of Tony. From the reckless broken CEO to the exhausted martyr of the Avenger to the gentle, anxious and protective dad.

Not exactly the same path—but close enough.

Laura nodded slowly, while touching on her marriage ring. “I know that look,” she said. “Clint came back different too. It’s like parts of him never made it home.”

“Exactly,” Pepper said. “And the hardest part? You can’t fix it. You can only stay. Be there. Even when they push. Even when it hurts.”

“Thing is…,” Pepper continued, “no one teaches you how to love someone who’s lived through wars. Who’s carried grief in his bones and still wakes up from dreams he won’t talk about. You don’t ‘handle’ them. You hold space for them. You let them take off the armor when they’re ready. And you remind them, every day, that they’re more than what they survived.”

Pepper let the words settle between them, heavy but true.

“How did you not lose yourself?”

“Oh, I did,” Pepper admitted, her smile sad but warm. “Sometimes. But I always came back to him when he needed me. And... eventually, he came back to me too.”

Laura looked over to where Clint, letting Nathaniel climb onto his shoulders, a rare laugh escaping him. “You know, there were days after the snap….” she said, “when I barely recognized him. The things I found in his duffel bag... the way he moved. Like he was waiting for something to go wrong again. Like he didn’t believe he was allowed to rest.”

Pepper set her cup down on the table and gently touched Laura’s hand. “Because in their minds, the world can’t stay good for too long. They don’t trust peace. It’s foreign to them. But that’s where we come in. Not to shield them from that fear, but to ground them in the now. Remind them that it’s okay to stay. That home is real.”

Laura’s eyes glassy, there’s a crack in her voice. “I flinched once,” she confessed. “When he came up behind me. My own husband. That was the moment I knew just how far apart we’d drifted. How much change already happened.”

Pepper’s voice was soft. “We all flinch. Grief doesn’t just hit them. It changes us too. It warps everything you thought you had figured out. You don’t have to feel guilty for that.”

“But I do,” Laura whispered. “He’s my husband. The father of my children. But when I look at him now, sometimes I still see that other version. The one from the reports….when we weren’t there. The one they called Ronin.”

Pepper nodded, eyes shining just a bit. “And Clint sees that too, Laura. But you know what he sees more? He sees you. The fact you’re still here. That you’re trying. That you’re choosing to stay.”

Laura’s voice cracked a little. “It’s hard.”

Pepper smiled, a little crookedly before she answer, “Tony once told me that building a suit was easier than building a marriage. I laughed in his face. But now? I think he was right.”

Laura let out a breathy laugh despite herself. “Clint thinks I can’t tell when he’s overwhelmed. He forgets I used to run surveillance and being agent’s beside him before diapers and motherhood.”

“Same,” Pepper nodded, eyes shining just a bit. “We didn’t choose simple men, Laura. But they’re good men. Even if they’re a little broken.”

“Especially because they’re broken,” Laura echoed.

From a distance, Cooper’s laughter rang out. Shuri and Lila waved at Laura. Peter passed by them quietly, a pair of glittery butterfly wings strapped to his back. He gave them a sheepish smile before getting tackled by Nathaniel and Morgan, who had clearly declared him their personal fairy.

Music played softly from the speaker, some old Marvin Gaye mixed with Lila chaotic playlist. Same blankets were scattered like patchwork across the grass. Dishes passed between hands, laughter filled the air.

For the first time in a long time, everything felt just a little bit whole again.

Laura blinked a few times and exhaled slowly. “Thank you.”

Pepper just smiled. “No, thank you.”

Laura sniffled and wiped her eyes quickly. “Damn you, Potts. I didn’t invite you to make me cry.”

Pepper grinned. “Hey, you started it.”

A loud burst of laughter broke the moment, and they both turned toward the center of the yard.

Scott Lang, already a few Asgardian mead in (which to be fair, should come with warning labels) was waving a half-eaten burger like it was a micropone, shouting, “—and that’s when I told Stark we need matching jackets or jerseys. I don’t care. As long as we had cool fonts.”

“Oh no,” Pepper muttered, already moving toward the scene. Laura followed.

Scott was standing proudly on the bench. Hope was halfway through trying to yank him down while simultaneously apologizing to everyone within earshot. Okoye stood nearby with arms crossed and a look that screamed existential regret. Hank looked like he was actively biting his tongue while Janet pinched his arm, clearly warning him not to make it worse. Mantis and Carol were both there, looking far too entertained.

—and then, get this,” Scott announced. “We made the club a night before the heist. A real club. Me, Tony, and Clint.”

The yard fell quiet. Impressive silence for a group this large. Wong even paused mid-bite his cake.

“…what?” Sam asked first, blinking. He had clearly been listening to the story for longer than he’d admit.

“A what now?” Wanda raised a skeptical eyebrow.

Scott pointed dramatically. “A club. You heard me.”

“No offense,” Rocket said slowly to no one in particular, “but those three as a club? That’s the weirdest trio I’ve ever heard.”

Rhodey muttered, “I second that.” (Happy, somewhere near the grill, softly muttered, “What the hell?”)

“I swear on my suit,” Scott continued, “we had a secret club”

“Well, what’s the name then?” Natasha asked, casually approaching like she wasn’t about to interrogate someone.

Tony, lounging nearby with Morgan’s princess tiara on his head, instantly panicked the moment he's spot Natasha’s interrogation stance. “Scott, I swear, get your ass down—”

But Scott was beyond saving. “It’s called the Dad Club!”

The second silence followed was so complete that even Valkyrie looked up from her glass of mead, impressed.

Mantis raised a hand. “Can Rocket join?”

Nebula and Stephen both groaned. “God, please no.”

“Absolutely not,” Scott replied, too fast.

Pepper turned to Laura, baffled. “You’re hearing this, right?”

Laura nodded, stunned. “Loud and clear.”

“You’re kidding,” Hope said flatly, hands still on Scott’s leg.

Scott puffed his chest. “We had meetings. In the kitchen. At night. Drank Tony overprice whiskey. Talked about parenting, gossips, war trauma, home repairs, and emotional constipation.”

Clint was suddenly found his beer very interesting.

Tony buried his face in his hands. “Okay, first of all, it wasn’t a club. It was one night. We were drunk. We were tired. Just, three sad idiots crying into Steve leftover pasta at 2 am.”

“But after that, we had another meeting! Remember the macaron place last month?” Scott called out.

Peter looked scandalized. “You went to a macaron shop without me?”

Happy blinked. “Wait… is that why you told me not to come pick you up that day?”

“No, no, no…no! I was handling errands and accidentally ran into them,” Tony protested, trying to keeping what was left of his reputation. “Also, Clint is the one made us stay. He said he needed dessert therapy.”

“Hey!” Clint yelled back. “Not cool, Stark. My sweet tooth is not up for public shaming.”

“Wait wait wait,” Bruce cut in, waving a hand. “You, Stark, and Barton? You three made a real club within the Avengers?”

Sam laughed, nearly choking on his drink. “The Holy Trinity of Unprocessed Trauma made a club?”

Scott nodded seriously. “We’re very exclusive club okay. The rule: you had to be a dad and hate being sentimental. Which ironically meant we got very sentimental, like, a lot.”

Tony groaned loudly. “For the record, I was drunk that time we made this. And coerced!”

Clint raised his glass. “Club rules. Can’t deny it now.”

Natasha narrowed her eyes. “You had a whole emotional support club and didn’t tell me?”

“You’re not a dad,” Clint said.

“I raised half of you,” Natasha deadpanned.

“Still not a dad,” Scott chirped.

Natasha wasn’t letting this go. She turned to Clint, arms crossed and brow arched in that very specific way that used to make Hydra agents reconsider their whole existence. "I’ve been your partner longer than Scott’s been out of jail.”

Clint winced. He knew that tone. That was the, ‘I’m not mad, just deeply betrayed you didn't mentioned for once you secret club’ and ‘might be considering where to hide your body’ tone.

Scott, ever unhelpful, piped up again. “Club rules. No moms, no aunts, no scary older sisters. Strictly dads drowning in emotional constipation.”

Laura raised an eyebrow at her husband. “Clint?”

Clint just shrugged helplessly. “Sorry dear—another club rules. No telling the wives.”

“You’re so sleeping on the couch,” she said. Shaking her head.

Pepper leaned over to Laura, half laughing. “I thought Tony was acting weirdly sentimental the morning over that mission. Should’ve known he was getting corrupted.”

Sam leaned over to Bucky too, whispering, “I feel like we just uncovered a conspiracy.”

“You did,” Clint said flatly. “A very sad, dad-based conspiracy.”

Valkyrie, ever the chaos agent, leaned in with a grin and shouted, “Alright then—who’s the leader?”

Without missing a beat, Scott and Clint said in unison, “It’s Tony.” “Definitely Stark.”

Tony groaned, pointing at them with the look of a man betrayed by his own teammates. “I led the club,” he admitted, clearly defeated. “Obviously.”

Pepper was practically doubled over now, laughter shaking her shoulders. “I cannot believe you had a whole secret... thing. Like an actual thing.”

“Oh, we tried to name it,” Clint said, so casual it was almost suspicious. “Scott pitched ‘The Dadminati.’”

Rhodey, mid-sip, choked. “The Dadminati?!, now that just sounds like a conspiracy theory run by tired dads.”

“Or ‘The Founding Fathers,” Scott added proudly, like it was a serious contender.

Peter wrinkled his nose. “That sounds like a failed off Broadway production where everyone wears wigs and cries about taxes.”

“I’m curious,” May said, leaning forward with that familiar smirk. “Okay, but what did you guys even do? Like... emotionally share or coordinate chore schedules?.” Her voice was sweet, but the glint in her eye promised she'd be bringing this up at every future brunch until the end of time. Tony shot her a sharp look half warning, half don’t you dare. But May just raised an eyebrow in response like bring it, Stark.

Tony looked like she’d just exposed his middle school diary in public. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, weighing the cost of replying.

At this point Clint, who’d clearly given up on any shred of his dignity at least fifteen minutes ago, sighed. “We had a group chat,” he admitted, deadpan. “Okay, technically just one. But we’d meet up sometimes. Usually by accident. Sometimes on purpose."

Scott, not one to let a moment pass quietly. “Clint didn’t always reply, because he’s too ‘off the grid’ and moody like that. But Tony? Oh, Tony made memes. Like, actual, real, badly cropped memes.”

Carol leaned in, halfway through a forkful of pasta. “Wait—Tony Stark made memes?”

Rhodey squinted, like a memory was scratching at the back of his brain. “Hold on. Was there one where Peter was trying to rewire his web-shooters with a toaster?” He blinked, pointing vaguely. “He send that to me once too.”

“Yes, That one of it!” Scott said, gleeful.

Peter, now being held in a loose side hug by Cooper, practically screamed, “YOU SAW THAT?!”

Tony, completely unfazed, raised a brow behind his sunglasses and took a long sip from his slushy (which still had to be non-alcoholic, thanks to the doctor’s orders. Tragic, really).“I deny all of this.”

Steve stared at him, genuinely baffled. “You… made memes?”

Next to him, Thor leaned toward Stephen and asked in a hushed voice, “What are memes?”

Stephen, deadpan, didn’t even turn his head. “Don’t worry about it, big guy.”

“Photoshopped,” Clint added helpfully. “Some of them were actually really good.”

Scott nodded. “He made one where Bruce looked like a tired soccer mom. It was beautiful.”

Bruce groaned, “I knew that lighting was suspicious.”

Tony didn’t respond. Just sipped his drink like he hadn’t emotionally blackmailed Clint and Scott into rating his meme captions at two in the morning, two nights before their mission.

Pepper muttered under her breath, “This man designed an AI with global defense capabilities and spent his late nights making memes about his teammates.”

Laura turned to Pepper with wide eyes, genuinely curious. “You knew about this?”

Pepper looked at her. “Not even a little bit. And that’s saying something, I caught him once watching Gossip Girl at 3 AM and didn’t blink.”

“I wanna see the memes,” Sam said, already halfway pulling out his phone like he was ready to hunt treasure on AirDrop. “Don’t be shy, Stark. Share the gold.”

“Oh yeah, show the memes!” Shuri shouted, clearly enjoying the chaos as much as the grown-ups.

Tony let out a soul-deep sigh, the kind that said he’d been through wars and still somehow this was his downfall. “This is why we don’t have nice things.”

“Honestly,” Pepper said, now by his side and grinning like she was reliving every absurd bit of their marriage. “I’m half touched, half deeply concerned.”

Tony gave a helpless shrug, finally accepting the chaos. “It helped. Talking. Joking. Sharing… nightmares, stress, wine recommendations... Scott dad jokes. Weirdly therapeutic.”

Laura leaned in closer to Clint, her hand resting over his. Still laughing, but softer now. “I’m glad you had that. Even if it was... you know. A little weird.”

Clint smiled and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Saved my sanity a few times. Probably Tony’s, too.”

“I thought I was gonna die in that compound kitchen,” Scott mumbled, almost to himself. “Death by feelings and stale pasta.”

“Same,” Tony and Clint said in tired unison, like they were reliving the emotional roller coaster on that night.

“But seriously,” Clint added, lifting both hands as if declaring innocence, “we serious that it was supposed to be a one time thing. We were sleep deprived, stress eating, half losing our minds. Scott cried. I made a bad pun. Tony stared at a burnt Pop-Tart for ten minutes. That was it.”

“I did not cry,” Scott shot back, defensive as ever.

“You sobbed, man,” Clint answered without remorse. “Full on tears when Tony played Peter’s vlog with the baby goat filter.”

“Okay, what the hell, Mr. Stark?!” Peter clearly mortified. “That was supposed to be private!.”

Tony groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose with his new bionic arm, seriously reconsidering every life choice that had led him to this exact moment. For god’s sake, he saved the universe, literally died for it and yet here he was about to be remembered as the guy who coped with trauma by making memes made at 3 AM during a stress spiral over Morgan’s preschool snack rotation and Clint’s gutter problems.

Maybe he should’ve spent less time hanging out with Peter. The kid’s humor had clearly corrupted him. Yeah, let’s just go ahead and blame Peter. Easy target.

He sighed deeply, muttering under his breath like a man defeated, “Why are we like this.”

Lila, somewhere between impressed and horrified, leaned over to Cassie. “I can’t believe our dads had a secret club.”

Cassie wrinkled her nose and didn't miss a beat. “Oh, I definitely can. I just didn’t think it’d have such a lame name.”

“I wasn’t in a club,” Tony said quickly, sounding far too defensive. “It was not a club.”

“Right,” Clint said, clinking his drink against Tony’s with the casual finality of someone accept his fate. “Club rules.”

“Long live the Dadminati!” Scott declared again, loud and proud, like he hadn’t just completely detonated the last shreds of Tony’s public dignity.

Hope had enough with Scott, finally grabbed the back of his shirt and yanked him off the bench. “You’re done,” she muttered, practically shoving the glass out of his hand.

Scott landed in the benches with a soft oof and zero shame.

Natasha blinked. “Dadminati huh?”

“It was that or The Founding Fathers,” Clint said with a shrug, like either option didn’t sound like it belonged to a failed indie band.

“Or,” Tony muttered, rubbing his temples, “we could’ve just not named it at all.”

“No way,” Scott said. “Branding is important.”

“Okay but... why just dads?” Okoye asked, narrowing her eyes as she crossed her arms. “What, moms aren’t emotionally constipated too?”

“That’s not the point!” Scott protested, pointing dramatically like he was standing on principle (and not on four glass of mead and a dare). “It’s not a parent club. It’s a dad club.”

Clint sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look. It’s not about being a better parent or whatever. It’s just… we needed somewhere to put the stuff that didn’t fit anywhere else.” Tony nodded.

“Still sounds like a dad support group with bad branding,” Natasha muttered, crossing her arms. But her voice had softened, and no one missed the way she glanced over at Clint with something like reluctant fondness and understanding.

Before anyone could reply, Wanda crossed her arms and chimed in too, hesitant but curious. “What about Vision? He didn’t… he didn’t have a kid. But I think… I think he would’ve been a good dad.”

The air shifted for a second. Not unkind, just quiet. Tony looked down. Clint’s mouth twitched. Even Scott sobered a bit.

“He would’ve,” Clint agreed carefully. “But… you know, it’s a dad club. And he… didn’t get the chance.”

Tony nodded, softly. “And he was too well-adjusted. No offense.”

“None taken,” Wanda said, eyes shining but smiling anyway. “Beside, he was... better than all of you.”

“Definitely,” Scott said. “We would’ve ruined him.”

Bruce raised a finger, already sensing a loophole. “Okay, not to…uh, crash the party, but I helped build Vision. Technically, with Tony and Thor. So… doesn’t that at least qualify me as dad?”

Before anyone could respond, Thor threw an arm around Bruce with a booming laugh. “Yes! Surely that counts. I’ve fathered many battles. And goats.”

Clint didn’t even blink. “Still a no.”

Bruce looked offended. “But I literally helped create life.”

“Bruce, come on,” Clint said gently, patting his shoulder. “No offense, but you’re way too balanced. You sleep eight hours, eat kale, and meditate.”

“Yeah, but I’ve got rage issues,” Bruce offered weakly.

“Yeah, but you processed them,” Tony chimed in. “Disqualified.”

Thor blinked, confused. “So… being functional is bad?”

“Extremely,” Tony deadpanned.

“I don’t know if I’m insulted or relieved,” Bruce muttered.

“Oh my god…” Cassie groaned, face buried in her hands like secondhand embarrassment was physically painful. “This is so much worse than I thought.”

Lila, beside her, laughed into her soda. “I don’t know. It’s kinda amazing.”

Nearby, Stephen reached for another plate of grilled beef with a look of mild concern. “I used to be renowned surgeon. Top of my field. Prestigious awards. Magazine covers.” he muttered, almost to himself. “Now here I’m listening to a dad conspiracy emotional support group run by literal superheroes. What the hell…”

Happy, somehow promoted to the Grill station without consent, glanced over and flipped a skewer with perfect timing “Believe me, buddy me too. And I’ve known these idiots way longer than you. Yet, I still don’t know how we got here.”

Stephen blinked in their direction. “Somehow…it’s weirdly functional?”

Happy nodded solemnly. “Disturbingly so.”

Stephen just sighed and wandered off with his beef.

Hank leaned toward Janet, both of them still watching from a corner bench like they were watching the world's most unhinged sitcom unfold in real life. “Okay, I’ll admit it. I didn’t expect Howard kid will being this....interesting”

Janet smiled. “You mean, you don’t hate him as much now?”

“I still hate Howard,” Hank muttered. “But I’d give Tony points for being the better Stark.”

Bucky, who had been lurking near the back with a beer and his usual brooding expression, joining the chaos. “If it’s about raising someone… Does helping raise Steve count?. I mean age wise and emotional states, I guess I’m fitted the criteria”

Here’s the thing about Bucky, long before the Howling Commandos and Winter Soldier, he was as always been an agent of chaos. Not in the way people usually assumed, all brooding stares and covert silence. Bucky Barnes has always been the guy who would dare Steve to jump off the roof with an umbrella just to see if it would work. The kind of person who knows exactly how to push a button and pretend it wasn’t him.

“What?!” Steve choked on his drink. “Excuse me—raised?!

“I taught you how to shave, punk,” Bucky said flatly, like it was a matter of public record.

“Once!” Steve snapped. “That doesn’t make you my dad!”

Scott squinted like he was genuinely considering it. “Honestly… vibe checks out.”

Steve turned to him, scandalized. “You’re agreeing with this?!”

Sam, who had been focus on his soup and watching this unfold with the delight of a man watching a sitcom live, leaned in and nudged Clint’s arm. “I helped raise my niece. Three years. Homework, dance recitals, middle school drama. Did I get the invitation?”

Clint shook his head. “Still a no.”

Bucky gestured vaguely. “I kept Steve alive through wars, a Great depression, and puberty. That’s fatherhood.”

Scott looked thoughtful. “We appreciate the effort, man. But those are the rules. No fake dads. No cool uncles. No terrifying aunts. You gotta have the full emotional breakdown and a birth certificate to prove it.”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “Again with the aunt slander.”

Valkyrie leaned closer to Nebula, voice low and amused. “Still think Bucky fits the vibe.”

Nebula, surprisingly, didn’t argue. Just gave a thoughtful nod and took a sip of her drink.

Across the yard, Quill finally spoke up, waving a piece of watermelon. “Hey, but about Rocket—I mean… Groot kind of sees him like a dad.”

“No I don’t,” Rocket grumbled from the cooler, where he was trying to steal some of the last Asgardians mead.

“Rocket, you wiped his nose for, like, two years,” Quill said.

“That was sap, and I was keeping him from melting the damn ship,” Rocket hissed, ears twitching like this wasn’t the first time they’d had this conversation.

“That’s what parenting is,” Drax commented.

Tony didn’t even look up from, just waved a hand vaguely toward them. “Rocket can count if he wants. But I don’t think he’s got time for scheduled meetings. Or the emotional range. Or even in the Earth range.”

Rocket raised his drink. “Exactly. I’m in the subcategory called ‘Dad by Circumstance.’ We don’t do feelings, only near-death experiences.”

“Still doesn’t qualify,” Clint called over, somehow hearing the whole thing. “Needs regular Earth-based emotional repression. And a calendar.”

“Yeah, unless Rocket’s gonna fly in for biweekly updates and whiskey fueled vent sessions,” Scott added, “he’s just cosmic family with boundary issues.”

Rocket flipped them off, took a swig of mead, and muttered, “Y’all need hobbies.”

Deciding to end the emotional chaos on one last note of oversharing and social destruction, Scott added cheerfully, “We do have hobbies you know. You seen Tony’s spreadsheets?”

Tony, slumped in his chair with his sunglasses and the fading tiara sliding off his head, didn’t even move. Just made a mental note to add Lang’s public execution to this week’s to-do list.

That got everyone’s attention.

“A spreadsheet?” Wong echoed, skeptical.

“Spreadsheets,” Clint corrected. “Plural. Morgan’s schedule. Peter’s class projects, patrol routes, extracurriculars, dentist appointments. Color-coded, with long concernig of footnotes.”

Pepper didn’t even blink. “He sends it to me every other Friday.”

May raised a hand. “Yes, alway at exactly 8 am. He never misses. He even has a section titled ‘In Case Peter Forgets to Eat.’ With emoji.”

Happy grunted near the grill. “Me three.”

Rhodey sipped his drink and added, “I pretend not to check it, but yeah. Got the Google Drive link and the Calender invitations.”

Peter’s face contorted into something between horror and betrayal. “You—what?! You’re all getting updates on me? I didn’t even know I had a dentist appointment next week!”

Tony looked up lazily, slushy straw still in his mouth. “That’s because I rescheduled it for you. You’re welcome, kid.”

Laura blinked at Clint. “That’s… weirdlu kind of sweet.”

“It’s unsettling,” Peter whispered, like he’d just discovered he’d been living in a Truman Show built by spreadsheets.

“It’s terrifying,” Bruce muttered. “Color-coded?”

Rhodey added, “Not just that. He’s got graphs. Pie charts. Time zone converters. I think there’s even an allergy tracker?”

“Tony’s version of love is deeply organized,” Pepper shrugged. “You get used to it.”

“I feel tracked,” Peter said, holding his cookie like it was a safety object.

“You are tracked,” Tony replied. “How else do you think I've keep showing up to things on time? You think that’s a coincidence?”

Peter blinked, looked mildly betrayed. “This explains so much. My whole life is just… a spreadsheet?”

“Technically multiple spreadsheets,” Tony said, reaching for a chips. “I have tabs.”

“Hey, don’t knock it,” Clint said. “He’s got one for me too. Last month, he reminded me I was supposed to fix the barn roof. I forgot it was even leaking.”

“Wait, you get a spreadsheet too?” Laura blinked.

Clint scratched the back of his neck, looking slightly guilty. “I might’ve requested it after I forgot Nate’s field trip. He gave me the silent treatment for a week. Brutal.”

Peter made a sound that could only be described as a short-circuited scream.

Shuri turned to Cooper. “Okay, this is both the most adorable and deeply unsettling thing that parents do for their kid I’ve ever heard.”

Cooper nodded slowly, equally stunned (eyes locked on Peter). “If I’m being him, I don’t know if I'll impressed on how everyone so on board... or if I might be need to move to another state.”

Rocket shook his head, still nursing his drink. “Nope. Still weird. Still deeply weird.”

Meanwhile, Carol didn’t even look up from her new comms device. Her fingers moved fast across the matte interface, calm amid the backyard chaos. An upgrade Nick had insisted on after one too many missed messages due to her ancient pager from the 19’s (She still kept it in a drawer. Just in case. Right next to a mixtape Quill once made her labeled “Songs for Punching Holes in Planets.”)

The device buzzed softly as she hit send, her eyes barely flicking up from the screen despite the rising volume of absolute nonsense happening around her. With mild exasperation, attached more files. Might as well document the inevitable downfall.

Miles away, deep inside a secured SHIELD headquarters, Maria Hill sat in her usual chair, coffee in one hand and a stack of post op intel reports in the other. Her screen pinged. She didn’t react. Not until she saw the sender.

She blinked, and sighed.

Thread: : Update from Barton BBQ
Sender: Danvers
Label: High Important

Secret dad club confirmed.

Tony = ringleader (obviously).

Includes spreadsheets.

I repeat: spreadsheets.

Lang + Barton = members.

Almost named it Dadminati??

Stark’s making memes. Surprisingly high quality.

All of them definitely need therapy. Maybe group therapy.

 

Attachments:

[IMG_3540.JPG] Stark in Morgan’s tiara, sipping juice box like scotch.

[VID_20.mov] Scott explaining club rules using tortilla chips and intense eye contact.

[IMG_3547.JPG] Gummy bears arranged like an org chart. Possibly by Morgan and Nathaniel

[MEME_42.png] A photo of Fury in mid-glare, with "Dads Assemble (But Emotionally Distant)" in Impact font.

Maria Hill stared at the message in silence for a full ten seconds.

Across the room, Nick Fury’s own comm buzzed. He glanced. slowly lowered his tablet.

“Danvers just sent me a full briefing from the barbecue,” he muttered.

Maria didn’t look up. “Check the label.”

He squinted. “‘High Importance’?”

“Yup.”

“I told her to ditch the damn pager and gave that woman a space adaptable encrypted military device” he muttered. “Now she’s sending me dad club therapy logs from barbecues like it’s classified intel.”

“She’s adapting,” Maria said, sipping her coffee. “More than I can say for half the people in that photo.”.

He stared blankly at the ceiling like it owed him answers. “We left the Earth in the hands of these people.”

Maria replied. “You did. I’m just here to sign the emotional damage reports and invoices”

There was a pause. “There’s a spreadsheet,” Fury muttered, like the words themselves aged him five years. “Of course there’s a spreadsheet.”

Maria nodded slowly. “Yes, color-coded. Stark even formatted it, with conditional highlights”

Nick pinched the bridge of his nose. “Tell me they’re not about Peter.”

Danvers typing…

Parker’s life is basically a living Excel doc

Assignments Appointments. Snack preferences. Sleep logs.

Shared file with Pepper, May, Happy, and Rhodey.

He just found out. Currently spiraling.

Quill tried to argue Rocket counts as a dad.

Argument still ongoing.

Rocket may have growled.

 

Attachments:

[VID_23.mov] Peter pacing while holding a cookie, saying “I knew his reminder for attendance tracking was too specific.”

[IMG_3550.JPG] Groot holding a crayon-drawn family portrait. Rocket is labeled “Dad???”

[IMG_3554.JPG] Screenshot of Stark’s “Parker Dashboard.” Tabs include: “Spider Schedules,” “Web Types,” and “Allergies.”

Nick muttered, “The man once hacked a Hydra database in under ten minutes with a fucking Nokia flip phone, and now he’s scheduling field trips.”

He rubbed his temples, leaned forward, and typed.

Fury typing…

I expected alien invasions. Civil wars. Time anomalies.

What I didn’t sign up for is a secret emotional constipation dad club.

Also, Danvers—I DEFINITELY didn’t need these updates.

Nick set his tablet down. “I’m too old for this.”

Maria gave him a look. “You’re not old. You’re just outnumbered.”

Danvers is typing…

Bruce reapplied. Rejected.

Cited rage issues. Stark said he’s too emotionally stable now.

Current debates:

• If Bucky counts as Steve’s dad.
• Rocket still denying fatherhood.
• Natasha forming Aunt Union and Wilson’s proposing Uncle Guild.

If this spirals any further we’ll need a legal family tree diagram with subcommittees.

If anyone respects me at all: send cookies.

Also, Nick—you’re the one who said “loop me in next time.” This. Is. Next. Time.

Attachments:

[VID_40.mov] Bucky saying, “I kept Steve alive through puberty. That’s basically fatherhood.”

[IMG_3553.JPG] Sam holding a sign that says “Uncles Deserve Rights.”

[VID_42.mov] Natasha calmly sharpening a knife while muttering about “equal representation.”

Nick stood up slowly, walked toward the window, and stared out at the city like a man wondering how his career had come to this exact moment.

“I led international espionage agency,” he said under his breath. “And now I’m monitoring a threads about the rise of the Domestic Avengers Alliance. Great.”

Nick stared into his lukewarm coffee with the quiet despair of a man realizing this might actually be the most stable Avengers-related development in months.

Nick muttered to no one, “I need aspirin. And a drink.”

Maria didn’t miss a beat. “I’ll ask Rebecca to bring both.”

He turned slightly. “Do not get me the one Clint brought last time. I’m not drinking bourbon that tastes like wood glue.”

“Got it.”

Nick sighed. “You know what, I’m gonna fake my own death again.”

Maria, didn’t even look away from the screen. “I’ll start the paperwork. But just so you know—if you fake it too often, people stop showing up to the funeral.”

Hill typing…

Sending the cookies and wine now.

Also, please tell Natasha, HR will not approve it any unions via threat or knife

And that includes bloody knife, dead bird and with a note :)

Reminder: we’re still under audit.

Also, I’m not putting “Aunt Civil Rights Movement” in the next budget meeting.

Nick groaned and sank back into his chair. “Send a sedative while you’re at it.”

Another ping came in.

Danvers:

Yay! Thanks Hill.

Noted. Will relay to Natasha. With caution.

Also turning off comms now.

Attachment:

[IMG_3590.JPG] blurry selfie of the club. Morgan's holding the phone. Everyone’s mid-laugh. Rocket’s in a bucket. Stark’s tiara is sideways. Peter’s still spiraling
Caption: “Not a cult. (Yet.)

—End of Transmission.

[Thread Muted and Archived by Fury]

[Hill quietly forwarded it to the SHIELD wellness committee for “morale assessment.”]

Carol smiled faintly at the “Read” receipt—slid the comms device back into her jacket, and strolled over to join Nebula and Okoye by the punch table. She might update Natasha later. Maybe.

Back in the yard, Clint raised his beer with Nathaniel snoring lightly in his lap. “Alright, next meeting we vote on official snacks.”

Tony groaned. “There are no more meetings.”

“You say that every time,” Scott grinned.

Morgan climbed onto his lap and offered him a single gummy bear. Tony took it without hesitation.

“I’m not leading anything,” he mumbled, tiara still barely hanging on.

Pepper just patted his shoulder. “Sure, honey. Denial’s stage one.”

Behind them, Peter muttered into his cookie again. “I can’t believe I’m in a Google Sheet.”

Bucky, sipping quietly, leaned to Sam. “You think they’d let me in if I brought Steve’s baby photos?”

Sam snorted. “Now that’s a power move.”

Somehow, under the fairy lights and grill smoke. For once, all of them felt ridiculously and terrifyingly normal.