Quill, Parchment, & Ink

Title: Avengers’ Eyass (Part Four)
Characters: Clint Barton, Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers, Bruce Banner, Tony Stark, Phil Coulson, Nick Fury, Maria Hill, other SHIELD agents and various people
Fandom: Avengers
Series: wee!Hawkeye
Written For:
Prompt: Clint gets de-aged. And not in the way you think.
Summary: The Avengers have dealt with just about everything life has thrown at them, but when one of their own gets turned into a child, can they deal with that?
Rating: PG-13 (rating might go up)
Spoilers: comic verse
Warnings: swearing, cuteness, de-aged Avenger
Disclaimer: No one recognizable belongs to me. Not making any money off this.
Author's Note: Yes, I know de-aged has been done to death. But this isn’t your typical de-aged fic…as I think you’ll see. Yes, this is a WIP, but I’ve got a chunk more than this written so hopefully I’ll be about to post some more soon. For now, enjoy! Wow y’all just…loved this. More than I ever expected. Glad it was embraced so much. Hopefully you like this next installment as much. I forgot to thank the following people last time, chrismouse for her translations, illfindmyway and whogeek for well being them because I wouldn’t write half this shit without them. Also I realized as I was re-reading this that I seem to “abuse” Maria an awful lot…seriously I DO like her…

Back to Part 3


Maria’s attention returned to Clint as the Avengers were wrapping up the scene. Dr. Doom still hadn’t been located, but since the Doombots had been subdued, Fury had ordered a message sent to the Fantastic Four. Maria had turned off her communicator when Stark started bitching about prima donnas and their inability to show up when they were actually needed.

The boy was still holding on to her field suit, although she could feel his head moving as he tried to see the screens and find as many people as possible. “Are they all okay?” he asked quietly.

“They’re fine, Clint,” she assured him. “It’ll be a while before they get back though.”

“Tasha. Where’s Tasha?” he asked.

Maria scanned the screens, reaching forward to tap one and bring Widow into sharp relief. “She’s right there. See? She’s fine.”

Clint leaned so far forward; he almost overbalanced both of them. “Tasha,” he called. “Tasha!”

Maria straightened up, grabbing onto him as she tried to explain, “She can’t hear you, Clint. You don’t have…” She stopped as he whimpered slightly. “Hang on.” Switching her comm to a private channel, she asked, “Black Widow, are you clear of the zone?”

“I’m not in the primary, Hill. Is there a problem?” Natasha’s voice came back clearly.

“Could you reassure the eyass that you’re all right?” Maria asked.

“Da, put him on,” Natasha replied.

“I’m going to set you down,” Maria explained to Clint, “but not move away from you.” Once she had him on the deck, she carefully fit the comm unit in his ear. “Now Tasha can hear you,” she told him.

“Tasha?” he asked. “Can you hear me? I called, but you couldn’t hear me.”

“I can hear you,” she assured him. “I need to work now. You need to be good.”

“I can. I can, Tasha. Are you coming back? You’re coming back, right?” Clint clutched at his ear where the comm was sitting.

“Of course, dorogoy,” she assured him. “But I need you to listen to Maria right now. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes, Tasha.”

“Good boy. Give the comm back to Maria now.”

Clint wiggled the comm out of his ear and held it up to Maria, his entire demeanor changed now that he had spoken to Natasha. As Maria fit the comm back into her own ear, he began to eye rest of the bridge. Before she could register his intent, he scampered towards the railings, scrambling up them and hanging over the edge. “Clint!” she snapped as he dangled over the lower deck. He grinned in response.

“I can do this!” he insisted, twisting around and reaching for another railing.

Maria didn’t go as far as to hold her breath, but she didn’t feel like she took another one until he’d latched on and was swinging from the new railing. “Clint Barton, you need to come down from there.”

He considered this for about half a second. “No.”

“Clearly not any less stubborn as a child,” Maria muttered before her attention was pulled away by a discussion between two of the agents seated in the lower section. She checked on Clint, who was still swinging on the railings and looking quite content before moving down below to mediate.

Wee!Hawkeye Wee!Hawkeye Wee!Hawkeye Wee!Hawkeye Wee!Hawkeye

“Tasha!” Clint screamed. He leaped off the railing he had been perched on, aiming for center mass on Natasha. Luckily his yell had been enough of an alert and she got her hands up in time to catch him. “You came back!” he continued before seeming to realize he was making a spectacle of himself. He pushed away from her, breaking her hold, and scrambling back to the railings. “That’s nice.”

“Clint, everyone is waiting for us. Please come down from there,” Natasha replied, ignoring his change of demeanor.

“Do I have to?” Clint asked.

“Yes, Clint. Now.” Natasha favored him with a look that booked no arguments. Clint considered her for a minute, then quickly climbed down and made his way over to her, holding out his hand. “Thank you. Say good-by to Maria now.”

“But, Tasha, there are things to climb on!” Clint protested.

“Glad to hear that, Clint. We’re still leaving. Say. Good. Bye.”

Clint pouted in response although it clearly did not sway Natasha, and finally waved to Maria and called, “Bye! Thank you!”

“Good-bye, Clint.” Maria waved back, not letting her relief show as Natasha led the little boy off the bridge. She turned back around to find three agents watching her. “If you’re going to stare at me, do it covertly,” she snapped. “You’re SHIELD agents. Use your training.”

Wee!Hawkeye Wee!Hawkeye Wee!Hawkeye Wee!Hawkeye Wee!Hawkeye

Natasha started at a noise, her hand sliding beneath her pillow for the knife that she kept there. As she sat up to deal with the intruder, she identified it as the small body of Clint. “What is it, dorogoy?” she asked softly as she slipped the knife back into place.

Clint knuckled his eye, clearly just having woken up. “Can I sleep with you, Tasha?”

“What happened? Did someone upset you?”

He shook his head, shifting on his feet, as he continued to rub at his eyes. “I had a bad dream.”

“Oh, dorogoy.” Natasha lifted the blankets, inviting Clint to join her in bed. He scurried across the room and hopped up onto the mattress, curling up against Natasha’s side. “Do you remember what it was about?”

He shook his head, burrowing against her. “No, just. I don’t wanna be alone.”

She hummed in response. “You don’t have to be. You can stay here.” Settling down, she let him snuggle against her, rubbing his back gently.

“Tasha, where did Barney go?” he asked after a few minutes.

Her arms tightened around his small body as she tried to figure out how to answer him. She knew there was no way for them to produce any form of Barney for the small boy shivering in her arms. The brother he remembered was long grown up and gone now; killed at Clint’s own hands. “Barney’s okay, Clint,” she whispered, infusing as much truth as she could in the lie. “I promise he just wants you to stay here with us.”

When Clint whimpered in reaction, she brushed his blonde hair back from his face and settled him more comfortably next to her. Softly she began to sing in Russian, a lullaby she vaguely remembered from before the Red Room and before everything that had happened. Clint sighed, his body slowly relaxing and the death grip he’d acquired on her t-shirt easing as he drifted off to sleep. When she was sure he was sound asleep, she pressed a kiss to the crown of his head. She wouldn’t be sleeping anymore tonight. She’d stay awake to guard his sleep. Nothing else would dare attack him with the Black Widow on guard and she wouldn’t allow any harm to come to him.




Dorogoy—sweetheart