Clint, who had been fully expecting the what did you get me question, cocked an eyebrow at Cassie and wiggled his fingers at her in a mock-tickling gesture. "If I told you, you wouldn't have any fun unwrapping them, would you?" The question was more ore less moot, however, because the parcels were soon lifted from her hands and swooped into a bear-hug-spinaround-brief-dip-upside-down that elicited laughter from both of them.
Even if the presents had a lot to do with it, Clint was beyond glad to be able to make Cassie smile. He wasn't crazy enough to be jealous of Scott's setup here -- Clint couldn't even imagine what it must be like to live under this kind of axe, the kind that lowered a notch with every year she got closer to twelve -- but there was something unmistakably pleasant about all this. Being able to snuggle a child -- your child -- whenever you wanted. It couldn't be called a luxury, not quite, not in the world they lived in. But it must've been... nice.
Clint held Cassie for three extra seconds before setting her back on the ground. "Go go go! You have friends!" He watched her scampering off and then turned his attention to Natasha and Scott. "I helped by letting you use your superior judgment and not intervening in any way," Clint said helpfully, smiling at her. It had been a good idea, bringing something for Maggie. A very Natasha idea, something that Clint hadn't even considered. He was grateful for it.
What Clint wanted was to ask how things were in Twelve. He wanted to ask how Scott was, how he was holding up out here. But he couldn't do any of that now, couldn't bear to talk about anything serious with the kids' shrieks of laughter just a room away, so instead he said, "Did someone say something about cake?"