Who: Hawkeye (Comic) and Bucky (kid) with guest appearances by Timmy and Richie Where: The Stark-Barton house What: Clint's watching the kids When: Sunday night Warings: none Status: Open to house residents if they feel inclined; otherwise, completed narrative
Clint knew it was probably being over-protective. He could have been having the night with Maryanne and Tony and AJ but instead he was in the Bucky and Timmy's room, watching the six-year-old get ready for bed while he rocked the youngest boy against his chest, the middle one already sleeping deeply in his crib. And frankly, he didn't mind being there. He loved the nights he spent with the other adults of course, but there was something about this, about actually feeling like a father, and one that was half-decent at that, was something he never imagined he'd feel and he took every moment of it to heart. It didn't matter that none of the boys were his, not really, he loved them anyway.
He checked on Timmy one more time before shuffled Richie on to one shoulder gently and sat on the edge of Bucky's bed, "Find your pj's yet kiddo?" he asked, the little boy popping out of his closet a few moments later with nothing. He sighed dramatically and threw his hands up in the air before climbing up on to the bed next to him and leaning in to his side, peering at the baby.
"Well you can't sleep in your jeans." Clint half-smiled to him, watching him peer at the little one and reaching out to push his hair out of his face; he'd need a hair cut soon.
"I don't want to wear anything in there." Bucky whined softly, leaning in to Clint's hand absent-minded and poking one of his own fingers toward Richie's foot, still a little bit fascinated by the baby. "What do your pj's look like?" he asked his daddy, looking up at him from under his hand.
Clint hesitated a bit at that, if he told the truth (that he usually slept with nothing) he'd be opening himself up to his six-year-old spending much more time out of his clothes, but he didn't like lying to him either. "Well lots of times I like to sleep in my undershorts and my t-shirt." he told him.
"Can I do that?" Bucky asked, excited but mindful of Timmy and keeping his voice down.
"Sure, which of your t-shirts do you want?" Clint asked the little boy, ready to help him change.
"No, yours!" Bucky replied, curling up in to his daddy's side a bit, snuggling in to the soft fabric. His daddy's shirts always felt softer than his. "This one."
Clint paused, he hadn't been expecting that. But, he didn't see anything wrong in it either. "Sure kiddo, how about you go brush your teeth and I'll get my pj's too. But you're gonna have to hold Richie for me okay?" he asked, giving his son a small grin.
"Okay!" the young boy grinned quickly, he liked holding Richie, even if it meant brushing his teeth first. He slid off the bed and went to the bathroom across the hall, pushing his little stool in front of the sink to brush his teeth the way his mommy and daddy and mama and papa had all showed him, making sure to do it the whole time the toothbrush his papa made him buzzed, just like he was supposed to. After he was done he went back to his room and found his favorite shorts, changing in to them and taking off his shirt to wait for his daddy.
Meanwhile, Clint had gone to his own and Maryanne's room, knowing the others would have been in AJ and Tony's, he found himself a second t-shirt and a pair of sleep pants of his own, maneuvering to change his pants one handed, careful not to break the string in them this time, and luckily not waking Richie in the process. He took his other shirt back in to the kids' room, grinning when he saw Bucky's clothes scattered around the room, the little boy's face pressed up against the slats in Timmy's bed.
"Keeping an eye on him?" he asked, Bucky quickly turning around to nod at him. "Good job." he responded, stepping close again to check the little boy himself. "Ready?" he asked Bucky, nodding his head back toward the bed. Bucky quickly nodded and climbed up on to his bed, sitting right up against the headboard so he could hold the baby. He still didn't have a shirt on but Richie had his blanket and he didn't mind. Clint sat at the edge of the bed and very carefully slid the youngest in to Bucky's waiting arms, making sure the little boy held him the right way before he kissed his hair and stood up again. He quickly pulled off his t-shirt and put on the new one, keeping hold of his old one as he sat back on he bed next to Bucky. "You want your story like this or after you're dressed and in the covers?" he asked holding up the shirt for Bucky.
Bucky contemplated a moment, he was a little cold but he liked sitting with Richie. "Like this is good. I like this." he told his dad. Clint smiled and wrapped an arm around Bucky's shoulders carefully, tugging the blankets up to cover both of their legs, "Superheroes or circus tonight?" he asked starting the ritual of telling Bucky a story of his past, disguising it like it was just another story like the fairytales in his books, until the little boy was starting to doze off against his shoulder. He gently picked up Richie and settled him in to the bassinet he'd wheeled in to make it easier for himself. Going back to Bucky he helped him put the too-big t-shirt on and settle in under the covers, switching on the night light and turning off the overhead. "Sleep good buddy." he told Bucky, kissing his forehead.
"Wait daddy." Bucky mumbled, his voice sleepy, "Stay here? Just for a few minutes?" he asked softly. He didn't like to tell people but sometimes he got scared that he'd wake up and have no family again.
Clint smiled to him and shook his head, reaching out to turn off the baby monitor and climbing back in to the bed. Bucky didn't need to say anything, Clint had the same fears almost every night. "Just a few minutes." he mirrored, letting Bucky tuck up in to his side as he fell asleep. He still didn't know how this became his life but he had to say, he was kind of in love with it. He listened softly to the three boys' slow and steady breaths before he found himself dozing off right along with them.