Hey everyone... Please don't kill me. Some of you maybe familar with my work. This story has blatant comparisons with another fic I'm writing. The muggle raised. Just taking the twist a bit further. Where... Well, you'll have to read and see.

Clint Barton was a simple man of simple desires. He was an archer who wanted a durable and accurate bow and enough arrows for him to shoot. And of those Rrows happened to electrocute, freeze or blow up things, then so be it.

Sure he may have been in the circus and became a government agent under a one eyed pirate but he still considered himself a simple man. He took time outside his missions to enjoy movies, music, and even dating when time allowed.

Though his work seemed to want to hinder that.

His new boss, Fury, had sent him on a mission to England. He never did like England. Too proper and too hard to understand. And way too strange. Especially when he tried to get a new battery for his dying hearing aid.

He grumbled as he somehow got lost in a little village with not a phone or computer, or hell, electric device of any kind in sight. People were dressed in bizarre Renaissance fair clothing that made him feel uncomfortable just staring at them. Itchy plain annoying material.

And he thought living in the circus was weird.

With all the tourist attractions and junk, he wondered why he had never heard of this crazy little place in the first place. Racing brooms, collapsible couldrens, and dragon liver? And what the hell were galleons, knuts, and sickles? Barmy individuals they were.

Especially with their paranoid reactions. He knew they were whispering about him as if he were a fungus. Some in fear, others in disgust, a few in the worst of all, pity. He had a bit of an idea why they were talking, he was carrying a large narrow bag on his back carrying around fifteen arrows and an emergency collapsible bow. That didn't stop the irritation from the whispers his dying hearing aid couldn't pick up.

He grumbled to himself as he made his way down the cobblestone road to find something he could use to contact Fury and get the hell out. The shopping area seemed to grow colder as he made his way through. He would rather be on the roof tops but there was no cover.

Bitterly, he decided he would never step foot in England again, Fury be damned. He was drawn from his internal cursing of England when he heard something interesting.

"We should just kill it. Blood trailer spawn-"

"He has not been tainted by that mudblood loving family. He will grow as a pure blood should."

"Not worth the trouble. The ministry search for the brat. Just let me kill it now. We can send them the body for giggles!"

Clint's body tensed. He wasn't the best at hearing, despite the hearing aid. But he could tell that whoever was talking had someone, five or younger, male, and from the sounds of it, they were either kidnappers or murderers. Or both. Probably both.

He narrowed his eyes and darted between buildings trying to find the speakers. He lightly glided through the alleys. Their voices cut out suddenly. He tapped his hearing aid trying to get the dumb thing to work. Unfortunately, it seemed his battery had just given out on him. He was going in deaf.

He could have left. He could have just found a phone and called Fury for pick up even if he couldn't hear the bald man. He had already completed his mission.

But the words lingered in his mind festering like an infected wound. Someone's life was on the line. And it was someone who not only couldn't defend themselves, but who couldn't hurt anyone.

He wasn't going to stand by and let that happen.

He glanced around searching for any possible witnesses. Seeing none, he scaled the building and effortlessly made his way to the roof. He was actually relieved that the buildings were as close as they were, giving him plenty of room to work from as he jumped from roof to roof avoiding civilian views.

Even if he was almost spotted by some bizarre man who had a broom between his legs. Seriously, what was he going to do? Fly with it? English people really were barmy. But Barmy or not he did look up right when Clint was about to jump. Clint fell on his face just short of actually jumping the roof he was on to hide. The man didn't notice. Clint would have continued if the man would just stop staring up around the roof. Groaning in irritation, he turned his head to look over the other buildings.

His heart fell. About two streets over, the shopping area seemed to stop. Buildings encircling the area to keep people from entering a wooded area. A wooded area where two adults were walking, arguing with each other if their body language was anything to go by, carrying a large blanket that looked suspiciously like a small body. They were moving quickly away from any building and in the opposite direction of where he had been. He was more than certain he had found his target.

He began jumping from roof to roof, away from the broom man and after the blanket holders. It was an effortless journey keeping the two in his sight. At least for a young government trained spy such as himself.

Slipping from roof tops to tree branches. He noticed the odd clothing was even stranger than the other people. Like crazy Halloween costumes. Crazy psycho people. Crazy psycho kidnapper killers. One man, one woman. The woman had thick, dark, and curly hair. The man wore a hood, indistinguishable, and carrying the reached into his bag and pulled out his collapsible bow and an arrow. It would take about ten seconds for him to draw another arrow from his bag. He didn't know anything about these two, but he'd have to be quick.

He could see the two continuing to argue though he couldn't tell what they were saying. He hated not being able to hear what they were saying. But if he had to guess, the woman wanted to kill the child. The man wanted to raise him. Neither seemed to like the other.

If he wanted to save the child...

He aimed his bow and let his arrow fly. Even before impact, he reached back to secure another arrow. The arrow pierced through the woman's back near her spine. She fell over in pain and her companion turned trying to pull something from his pocket, dropping the blanket. Clint released his arrow as the man pulled out a stick. Clint wasn't sure what he was going to do with a stick, but he knew he couldn't do anything with an arrow piercing through his eye and damaging the brain. Well, killing the man. The woman seemed to shriek in pain and rage. Her face turned enough that he could see her mouth move.

"Damn it Yaxley! Couldn't let me just kill the brat!" Clint read her lips as he assumed she screamed. Clint readied another arrow. She stood up clutching the area of her injury, her other hand on a nearby tree. She leaned part of her shoulder on the tree to lessen the weight on her feet. She pulled a similar stick from her sleeve pointing it frantically at the trees. In her rage she reached for the blanket, quite possibly to use the kid as a human shield. Clint fired another arrow.

The arrow pierced her shoulder pinning her to the tree. She screeched in more rage cursing people he didn't know. Cops perhaps. Or were they called bobbies? Whatever.

He jumped between the branched to her tree as she struggled to free herself, tearing muscle all the while no doubt. He jumped from one of the lower branches to the ground. In a swift motion, he hit her neck knocking her out. She fell limp, only held up by Clint's arrow. Her injuries still bleeding, but sluggishly with the arrows holding their positions.

Clint stared at the woman. He could kill her. He killed the other man. And he didn't want to even kill the kid. A whine broke him from his thoughts. He turned his head to the blanket to see it moving. He darted over to the blanket, knowing the woman wouldn't be going anywhere anytime soon. He gently scooped the body from the ground, unwrapping the head.

Short, fuzzy red hair treated him with droopy blue eyes. Facial baby fat was easily seen in his pale cheeks. Tears filled his eyes as he reached out to Clint.

"Dada," he mumbled. Clint felt his heart warm. Ah, the little guy thought he was his dad...

Wait... He thought he was his dad?

"You can't tell the difference between me and your daddy can you little guy?" he asked knowing he wouldn't get an answer. The little guy just gave a baby smile, with little white teeth starting to peak out of his gums. Clint smiled back at the little guy. He grimaced though as his hearing aid decided to try and flicker back on.

"Well let's go find your-"

"Damn it!"

"They're over here!"

Clint instinctively brought the child close to his chest as the battery died possibly for good. He had a choice. He could kill the woman and risk capture... Or leave her alive and take the young boy to safety. He was running before he could give any more thought. Tearing through the forest, he did not dare slip back into the shopping area. He was sure that whoever the kidnappers were with would search there first. So he traveled through the forest. All the while, the boy grabbed his shirt and repeated dada over and over again. Clint could feel his hand tighten and his breath keep the gentle repetitiveness of the word.

It took hours to reach a familiar location. A safe house purchased under the name Phil Coulson, an agent of SHIELD, on the outskirts of the pain in the butt city of London. He sighed in relief entering the building. Anything and everything was carried in there, including batteries. No more flickering in and out of conversations. He carried the kid over to the couch, before deciding it was better to carry him. How old did a kid have to be before they didn't need cribs?

Not that he was going to keep him of course! The baby had parents somewhere... Probably... No for sure!

But maybe he was all alone...

Oh no. He was getting attached to the little guy.

With this worrying thought, he frantically searched the house for batteries, keeping the kid comfortable sleeping against his chest. He nearly jumped with joy when he found them in a drawer in the kitchen area. Still holding the sleepy child, he removed his hearing aid and began to replace his worn battery. He was able to place the hearing aid back to it's proper place in time to hear whimpering from the baby.

"Aw, what's a matter wittle guy? Are you hungwy?" He asked. The baby whined some more and then smiled. Clint blinked at the sudden change. But he wasn't confused for long and started to gag, much to the delight of the baby. Oh god, and he thought the monkey poop was bad. Well, it still was. And they were throwers. But this little guy had something fierce.

He knew he had to change him, but there was no way that there would be changing supplies in a safe house for super spies. Still, he was a spy. He'd make do.

"Do I want to know?" Fury questioned rubbing his good eye. It had taken three days for Clint to return to America. Fury hadn't asked then, but now he wished he had.

"Kid was going to be killed."

"And you couldn't find his parents? Why do I not believe that?"

"Directer Fury, I searched for missing children information. Not one looks like him."

"Then you want to keep him?" Fury questioned raising a brow. Clint stiffened.

"I want to find his parents."

"And what if they are missing? If they're dead? He's a British citizen Barton."

"That's just it. I couldn't find anything."

"And you want us to."

"You have connections. And this little fella deserves to grow up with his family."

Fury groaned.

"Fine. We'll have agents look into you little... Fella's family. Until then he needs a name."

"What?"

"You can't expect me to put fella on his birth certificate do you?"

"He can't have an American birth certificate! He's British!"

"It's just so we don't have other agencies breathing down our necks. Besides, as of right now he's an illegal alien. Giving him an identity here will keep him safe as a U.S. citizen."

Clint thought for a moment before answering.

"Jeremy. Jeremy Archer.

"Fine. Jeremy Archer Barton it is."

"Wait!? My last name?!"

"You found him. He looks somewhat like you. And he calls you dad. Either you play dad, or the kid is sent back to England to their government."

Clint didn't argue with Fury. Though a little irked his basic life with basic wants had been completely wrecked, it was all for the little boy who was apparently targeted by killers.

Now don't kill me. I have read many stories where Harry is taken in by the avengers. They are good and all, but I couldn't help but notice an under appriciated Avenger reminded me of an under appriciated wizard. He's been bashed, hated and generally disliked. He's been the butt of jokes, and the victim to many hurtful pranks,

Ladies and gentleman, I don't think it's a big secret when I say Hawkeye and Ron Weasley.

Let me know what you guys think with a review. For all I know this is a dead on arrival concept.