Quill, Parchment, & Ink

Title: Obligations
Characters: Clint Barton, Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Bruce Banner, Thor Odinson, David Barton
Fandom: Avengers 2012
Series:
Written For: lillyg for Twelve Days of Fic Christmas
Prompt: Clint’s son; after the Battle of New York
Summary: Clint has a secret from most of the other Avengers but after the Battle of New York, he’s got no choice but to share it with them.
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: the Avengers (is this still a spoiler?)
Warnings: Clint has a family of sorts, Natasha thinks love is for children, Steve is confused, Tony is well… Tony
Disclaimer: No one recognizable belongs to me, not making any money off this.
Author's Note: So I posted a request for prompts to fill out my 12 Days of Fiction Christmas and the first person to request a story was my very good friend, LillyG. I was thrilled to write a story for her. I hope this fulfills her request!


After everything was said and done, after the battle was over. After the cognitive recalibration and the battle and the shwarma of all things; all Clint wanted was to collapse on the nearest flat surface and sleep for a month.

Tony was talking a mile a minute about semantics, housing, weapons, schematics; Clint couldn’t follow and didn’t care as the man jumped from subject to subject. The food clearly having given him a second wind.

As the entire group hit the streets, Natasha pulled Clint aside. “Where did you leave David?” she asked in a low voice.

Clint’s eyes widened as he realized who he’d forgotten in all the chaos. “I left him with Kate. She’s probably frantic,” he replied.

“You left a four year old with a teenager?” Natasha asked dryly.

“It’s not as irresponsible as it sounds,” Clint protested. “It’s not like she’s twelve. She’s eighteen and she’s actually really good with him. And isn’t that what teenagers are for?”

“Not normally for days on end,” Natasha pointed out.

“It wasn’t like I planned to leave him for days on end,” Clint said.

Tony spun around from where he was leading the pack. “What are you two plotting back there? The downfall of someone? The death of someone?”

“It’s always good to have a plan to meet all possibilities,” Natasha responded.

“You are a scary, scary woman,” Tony said. He spread his arms out. “So. I’m thinking going back to the flying coffin isn’t an option. All of you are welcome to crash at mi casa. I know it’s a wreck right now, but we’ll find places.”

“I’ve got…” Clint rubbed the back of his neck. “I need to go do something.”

“Do you need help?” Natasha asked.

“No. I think I’ve got it,” Clint said. He looked around at the destruction. “I just need to figure out how to get there.”

“Where are you headed?” Steve asked.

“I need to check on my apartment, a friend, my…” Clint looked at the other Avengers who had all stopped walking and were gathered around him. “My ah son.”

Steve blinked at the reveal. “You have a son?” he asked.

Clint glared in response. “Yes. Do you have a problem with that?”

“No, I was just.” Steve shook his head. “Where has he been?”

“Safe. With a friend,” Clint replied. “Who’s probably dealing with a frantic little boy now since I haven’t called in a couple of days.”

“What do you do with a kid?” Tony asked.

“I don’t even have an answer for that,” Clint replied. “He’s my kid. I don’t do anything with him. I mean I do things with him, but he’s not a thing.” He groaned. “I’m too tired for this. I need to go get my kid.”

“Do you need help?” Steve asked.

“Nah.” Clint shook his head. “He’s four.” He held his hand up about waist high. “Only about so big.”







Clint knocked on the door to the uptown apartment that had miraculously escaped the majority of the destruction from the battle. Before he’d even completed the knock, the door was flung open, and he was faced with a furious dark-eyed teenager. “What the hell, Barton?” she demanded. “Where have you been?”

“Is Davy okay?” he asked instead of answering her.

“Yeah he’s fine. Worried. Wondering why you didn’t call, but…” she was interrupted by a yell from the back of the apartment.

“Daddy!” Clint opened his arms as a young boy came barreling out of another room, hiding the wince as the little boy leaped into his arms. “Where have you been?”

“Fighting bad guys, bucko.” Clint hugged him close, then shifted him, trying to avoid the worst of the bruising and cuts from the glass. “I came back as soon as I could.”

“You were gone for-ev-er,” David told him, glaring at him.

“I know, bucko. I’m sorry.” Clint sighed before turning to Kate. “Was he good for you?”

“He was fine. But, Clint, dude, your apartment…”

“I know. I saw. I’ll… figure something out. Thanks for keeping him.”

“You can stay here for…”

“No. Your dad is probably already having an issue about Davy being here. We’ll…” Clint shook his head. “I’ve got an idea.” He jostled David before letting him down. “Go get your bag and say bye to Katie-Kate.”

A few awkward minutes later (because Clint had no idea what to say to Kate if it didn’t involve archery instruction or directions on what to do with David), his son came back, dragging a duffle bag almost as big as he was. “Let me help, David,” Kate offered.

“Davy,” he corrected with a tone that said they’d been having the discussion for a while. “I got it.”

“Davy, let her help,” Clint told him. “Or let me.”

Reluctantly, David turned the bag over to Kate, who hefted it up into Clint’s arms. “You sure you can get him and it?” she asked.

“We’ll manage. Davy, what do you say?” Clint prompted.

The dark haired boy turned to Kate, dutifully parroting, “Thank you, Katie, for watching me for Daddy.”

“Amazingly I think he has better manners than you,” Kate commented dryly.

“My manners are fine,” Clint retorted. “He’s four.” He held his hand out to David. “Come on.”

“Where are you going to go?” Kate called after them as they headed down the hall.

“Stark said I can crash at his place,” Clint called back. “We’ll see if the invite is open to Davy too.”

“Good luck with that,” Kate said before shutting the door.

Clint flipped her off over his shoulder, even though she couldn’t see him. Looking down at David, he sighed. “Come on, bucko. We need to see about where we’re staying tonight.”

“We can’t go home?” David asked.

Clint crouched down so he was eye to eye with David. “I don’t know how to tell you this, buddy. But some bad things happened today. And Daddy has a lot of fault in it, but I tried to help in the end.” He rubbed the top of David’s head as the little boy stared at him. “Our apartment isn’t safe right now. I checked on everyone and they’re fine, but we can’t stay there. Do you understand?”

“Is Auntie Tasha okay?” David asked.

Clint smiled. “Auntie Tasha is fine. How about we go see her? I know where she is. And I think we can stay where she is.”

“Where’s she?”

“You know that big building we’ve seen? Stark Tower? Well Mr. Stark told me I could stay there and I’m hoping he’ll let us both stay. Otherwise we’ll go find somewhere else to stay.”

David’s blue eyes lit up. “We get to stay with Iron Man? I get to meet Iron Man? Cool, Daddy!”

“Ya know, I really thought you’d have better taste. Your dad’s Hawkeye. Your aunt is Black Widow. And you get excited about Iron Man?”

“Yeah, but you’re my dad, he’s Iron Man,” David replied with a roll of his eyes.

“All right. Well, at least it’s not Fury.”

“Why would I like Fury? He sends you away!” David glared at him.

“Okay, well, as long as we’re clear on that. You ready to go?”

“To Stark Tower?” David asked.

“To Stark Tower,” Clint confirmed, hefting David’s duffle. He’d worry about getting clothes for himself later, but at least David had things for the next few days and if he knew his son; his most prized possessions were also in the bag.




It took longer than Clint would have liked to make it back across town to Stark Tower. By the time they did make it, both he and David were dragging. Finally he swung David up onto his hip, ignoring his demands to be put on his back like usual. He wasn’t going to be able to do that until someone had a chance to dig the glass out of it.

Looking up at the Tower, he wondered if this was such a good idea. Before the battle, the Tower hadn’t looked very kid-friendly and now it looked even less so. But Clint didn’t want to go to SHIELD with David or without him. So he hoisted his son higher onto his hip and headed into the lobby of the building.

“Greetings, Hawkeye. You and the young master should take the elevator up to the first private level."

"Um, JARVIS, right?"

"Yes, sir."

"Okay. Thanks. I think." Clint looked around the lobby which was a mess of wreckage. "And I do that how?"

"Normally I would have a bot show you the direction, but they are... unavailable at the moment. So please follow the light to the elevator," JARVIS answered.

"Daddy, who's talking?" David asked, lifting his head from where it rested on Clint's shoulder.

"A friend of Stark's, bucko," Clint answered as he located the light JARVIS was directing him towards. "You can ask him about it. Tomorrow."

Entering the elevator, Clint dropped the duffle and shifted David to his other arm. “Just keep quiet when we get upstairs, okay, Davy?” he asked.

“Is Auntie Tasha upstairs?” David questioned.

“I don’t know. You can go to her if she is, but be careful. She’s tired.”

“Okay.” David lay his head back down, snuffling against his father’s neck.

The doors opened a minute later, revealing the Avengers scattered about in various positions of relaxation. Tony sat up as Clint exited the elevator. “JARVIS, explain to me what Legolas is carrying.”

“I believe he has a child, sir. DNA scans indicate that the child is Agent Barton’s son,” the AI answered.

“Okay, but what is it doing in my Tower?” Tony demanded.

“My son is not an ‘it’,” Clint replied.

“Fine, well, he does not belong in my Tower,” Tony said.

“We don’t have anywhere else to go,” Clint said quietly. “Our apartment was destroyed and I’m not taking him to SHIELD.”

“Tony, you can’t send them away,” Steve broke in. “They’re exhausted.”

David’s head lifted at the new voice and he looked around with interest. “Where’s Auntie Tasha?” he asked after a minute.

“Right here, Davy,” the Russian answered, holding her arms out.

David twisted around, wiggling until Natasha had to take him or force Clint to drop him. “Ungrateful wrench,” Clint mumbled.

Natasha grinned as David wrapped his arms around her neck, burrowing in against her. She murmured to him for a minute in Russian, before setting him down to run back to Clint. Steve got out of his seat as they were interacting. He knelt down in front of David when the boy was back to clinging to Clint’s leg. “Hi, David. My name is Steve.”

Before David could say anything, Clint said, “He ah prefers Davy. He’s pretty adamant about it. Just… don’t take offense if he corrects you.”

Steve grinned. “Davy, then. I understand. I don’t like being called Steven.”

David looked up at Steve, who even crouched down, towered over the little boy. “You’re really big.”

Clint face palmed, shaking his head at his son’s bluntness. “Yeah you need to go to bed, bucko.”

Steve chuckled in reply. “Well, he’s got a point. But I wasn’t always big, Davy. I ate what my mom told me to and exercised and…”

“Had some help,” Tony not so helpfully pointed out.

“Okay, we’re not explaining Super Soldiers to my four year old,” Clint broke in. “Stark, can we stay?”

“Daddy?” Clint looked down to see David yawning and rubbing his eyes. “I tie.”

“Tony, which room are they staying in?” Steve asked, ignoring that Tony had never actually said yes.

“And we need first aid supplies,” Natasha added. “Clint, don’t even deny that you’re injured.”

“Don’t abuse me more than I am already and I won’t,” Clint replied.

It took a few minutes to get everyone organized, then almost the entire group trouped down the hall to the room Tony had indicated. As soon as he saw the bed, Clint collapsed face down on it, groaning as Natasha almost brutally stripped his combat vest from his body.

“Barton, there’s glass in your back and arms. Why?” Steve asked.

“Because I maybe went through a window,” Clint replied, his words muffled by the blanket on the bed. “It was that or plummet to the ground.”

David had crawled up onto the bed while they manhandled Clint and settled by his head. “Daddy, are you okay?”

“Yeah, bucko, I’m fine. Just a little sore,” Clint answered. “Auntie Tasha will take care of me.”

Natasha smacked him on the shoulder, ignoring his wince. “If you had a better sense of self-preservation, I wouldn’t have to.”

Clint grumbled in response to that, but his reply wasn’t loud enough for anyone to hear. “Daddy’s okay?” David asked.

“He’ll be fine,” Bruce assured the little boy as he joined the group by the bed. “Clint, I’m going to start removing the glass. Try not to tense up.”

“Yeah. Okay. Davy, lay down, okay? I don’t want you watching this.”

David promptly flopped down, resting his head against Clint’s and grabbing the ear that was closest. This was apparently something Clint was used to because he didn’t move his head out of David’s grasp, he simply relaxed under the hold and rolled his shoulders to let Bruce get the best angle.

It probably took Bruce ten or fifteen minutes to carefully pick all of the glass out of Clint’s shoulders and the bit of his back not protected by his combat vest. The entire time, Clint lay perfectly still. “You’re clean,” Bruce said finally. “And thank you.”

“You have a steady hand, Doc,” Clint replied. “And you’re a lot nicer than the SHIELD docs. Thanks.”

“I’d sleep on your stomach tonight if you can,” Bruce commented. “It’ll probably be more comfortable.”

“Don’t think I could move if I wanted.” Clint indicated David. “He’s out cold and he’s got my ear.”

Natasha grinned. “That is one of his more amusing traits, holding onto you when you get back from an op.”

“There are worse things he could do,” Clint commented. “I’mma pass out now.”

Steve looked up as Bruce and Natasha re-entered the living room. “Is Clint all right?”

“He’ll be fine. We’ll need to keep an eye on his wounds, but they should heal nicely,” Bruce commented. “His mind.” He shrugged. “We’ll just have to see.”

Steve nodded, turning to Natasha. “Does… Davy’s mother? Do we need to let her know that Clint and Davy are all right?”

Natasha shook her head. “She’s not involved. She’s had nothing to do with Davy since he was a baby. She doesn’t care about him. And they’re fine that way.”

Steve gave her a flabbergasted look. “How could any mother refuse her child?”

“He has Clint and me,” Natasha responded. “He doesn’t need anyone else.”

“He has us now, too,” Steve replied quietly. “If Clint will allow us.”

“That’s something you’ll have to discuss with Clint,” Natasha answered before disappearing down the hall towards the room where the two Bartons were sleeping. Steve stared after her, knowing he’d be talking about it with the archer when the other man woke up.