1point5kidsandaruger | I seem to be what I'm not, you see. I'm wearing my heart like a crown.

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I seem to be what I'm not, you see. I'm wearing my heart like a crown.

[The lab at the NTS gives Steve the crawls, no matter how many times he ends up there. Maybe it's the wasteland backing the place, the radiation warning signs or the huge pits where gamma-based explosive have ripped chunks out of the earth. Maybe it's the way the self-contained facility circulates purified air until the entire place tastes stale. Regardless, when Howard says there's 'something interesting' there and that General Phillips has requested Captain America's presence at the base ASAP, Steve doesn't exactly have a choice but to go.

The surroundings are still unsettling. The air still tastes stale. But there's a wildness to the place that Steve's never seen before. Scientists rushing back and forth, holding conversations that are at once hushed and excited. He almost has to pry one away from her clipboard in order to find out where Phillips and Stark are waiting. "Requested SSR personnel are supposed to go to observation room three," she says, and by the time he manages to get directions there he's already looking forward to stepping back out into the Nevada heat.

What he doesn't expect when he gets to Observation Room Three is to see Peggy and a half-dozen higher ups whose names and faces he knows but whom he's never personally met. What he doesn't expect is to see a man restrained in the otherwise empty cleanroom on the other side of the glass. Steve's escort stays on the other side of the door when it gets shut. He drifts to Peggy's side, saluting the Phillips at the same time.]

General. Is... What is this?

[Phillips raises his eyebrows at Steve in a look the Captain knows too well by now.]

Funny.[Phillips gestures at the glass.]I was hoping you could tell me. Stark got Skull's toy box open - ripped a nice shiny hole in the wall of his lab and spiked radiation levels in the entire facility. And also gave us him.

[Steve moves to the glass, resisting the urge to press a hand against it and peer closer, like the prisoner is a new exhibit at the zoo.] I'm not sure I follow, sir.

Came through the hole, took out two scientists and five guards - and then things got interesting.

[Steve frowns, still watching the prisoner.] ...Sir?

He took one look at the uniforms and started demanding to see you.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Peggy's eyes narrow as the doorbell rings, and Sarah perks up, as well. Josephine declares something triumphantly and attempts to wriggle off the couch, but Peggy scoops her up. "I don't think so, young lady," she scolds, climbing to her own feet before slowly making, her way for the door. Sarah trots after her, fingers idly holding at the back of her mother's skirt.

She gives Steve a brief look, preparing for any sort of damage control that might prove necessary, especially once she spots the people waiting to be let inside. She also shoots Clint a warning before sighing heavily and finally opening the door.

Her smile doesn't quite reach her eyes. "Mary Lou. Belinda. To what do we owe the pleasure?"

Instantly the two women are peering inside the house, with all their usual standard nosiness. "Hello there, Miss Josephine! And I see you there, Miss Sarah!" Mary Lou says with a sticky and mildly annoying sweetness.

Sarah returns the greeting politely, but Josephine just huffs her way into disappointment.

"We just thought we'd stop by, Peggy!" Belinda notes, though her eyes are looking beyond, landing firmly on Clint. Mary Lou's eyes follow suit. "We saw your car come on home."

Clint doesn't know what he was going to say to Steve if the doorbell hadn't interrupted. But when it does, and Peggy shoots him that look, he looks around, trying to figure out something to do. Eventually he settles for peeling off his gloves and guards and stashing them in his quiver, which he finally takes off and sets behind his chair, out of sight. He feels naked, now, and worse, unarmed. His clothing, SHIELD insignia and all, won't blend. But at least now they can avoid the most obvious question.

He'd been prepared for some kind of ambush, a dozen agents storming in to arrest him, or something. What he isn't prepared for are two well-intentioned but nosy neighbors. And when they fix their eyes on him, well...

Clint turns to Steve almost desperately, asking out the side of his mouth, "What's the plan?"

Steve rests a hand on Clint's arm, battling a grin. "The first thing to do is relax. They're harmless, really."

"What are you gentlemen whispering about back there?" Mary Lou all but falls around Peggy trying to get a better look inside the house. Steve moves forward, neatly getting between the woman and Clint and making it look like he's coming to greet them at the same time.

"Nothing of interest," he says, adjusting Rosalie on his hip. The girl pretends to be asleep, even throwing in a tiny snore. Steve finds it harder and harder to keep from smiling.

Mary Lou and Belinda glance at each other, then back to the house's occupants. "You certainly have a full house this evening. It must be nice having everyone at home."

Gabriel is keeping himself out of sight, less because of the neighbors' reaction than because if he doesn't have to deal with their reaction, so much the better. He rolls his eyes and rests his head against the wall, smirking at Clint. Poor, poor Clint.

"Well, you know how busy Peggy's work keeps her." Steve's tone is megawatt bright, heavy with the poorly-hidden glee of someone initiating a scandal. The two women falter.

"Grant," says Belinda. "You're such a tease. Really, though, you must introduce us to your guest."

Steve looks back at Clint, his amusement finally tempered. "Brother of mine. Work brought him into town."

It's not a lie, in the strictest terms. Just a slight reforging of the truth. "Clive Barton, Mary Lou and Belinda. They live across the street."

"Not together, of course!" Mary Lou says. The two women look at each other and bark out nervous laughs, before homing in on Clint again. It's Belinda who speaks this time.

"Another... brother?"

"I have a very large family," Steve says, all his brightness returned. Rosalie squirms and rolls over in Steve's arms, so she's facing Clint's way - wide awake and trying not to give herself away by giggling.

"Our branches in work apparently cross over," Peggy remarks, stealing a glance at Clint, then Steve, before turning back to the women and her goal of keeping them out of the house before they can settle themselves in for tea. "We ran into each other today, and it turns out he'll be in town for some time. He's even busier than I am, so the family reunions have until now been basically nonexistent."

Sarah determinedly follows the etiquette of her mother in being politely attentive, though she joins their hands together. Josephine mutters something as she stretches her arms, then curls into Peggy in a genuine tired snuggle, unlike Rosalie's maneuver. It doesn't stop her from continuing to make sudden important announcements, albeit quieter and less rambly than she has been. She points at Clint during one of these and stares at him, before rolling over in Peggy's arm.

Mary Lou tries not to drop her mouth open, and it takes an elbow jab from Belinda to avoid that. She composes herself and asks airily, "How long might that be?"

He would have stuck out on a street in present-day New York. In a fifties entry way? He's a sore thumb. All in black, reinforced boots. The gloves and quiver are gone, but that doesn't help much. He has to do something, or he's going to bring down a lot of chaos on this house.

Despite not interacting with them very often, Clint's good with civilians. He's natural, he's affable. There's an old woman who lives on the third floor of the apartment building he rents out of. She's gotten so fond of him she bakes him banana bread every week, even though he's sometimes not home for months at a time.

Okay, Barton. Work your magic.

"Well, I'm at a bit of a lull at the moment," Clint says, with a half-smile. He walks up to Peggy, picks Josephine up out of her arms and tosses her over one of his shoulders. "So as long as the little ladies aren't kicking me out..."

In apparent response to Clint's statement, Josephine wraps both arms around his neck and huddles against him, yawning.

"That's. Certainly an interesting uniform." Mary Lou looks from Peggy to Clint and back again, clearly trying to parse out how their work, whatever it is, could be related.

Steve is about ready to intervene when Sarah takes Clint's free hand, eying his clothes and then the neighbors. "They're his pajamas," she says, with a haughtiness that indicates what she's saying should be obvious. "He's sick, so you should go, so he can sleep." A pause as she remembers her etiquette: "Please."

Any other thing Peggy might have been feeling is pushed aside for pride in Sarah, and she beams down at her for the ease at which her daughter plays into any situation.

She turns back to Mary Lou and Belinda, nodding. "It's also getting quite close to bedtime, though I'm sure you've noticed." Her eyes flash to both Josephine and Rosalie, even as she's more than aware Rosalie is wide awake.

Mary Lou falters, muttering: "Pajamas...?"

"Sure is an interesting style," Belinda says, giving the apparent pajamas a once over. But both women look marginally more placated than they did upon arrival, even if there are more questions clearly waiting to be asked.

Here's a protip for those of you at home: spies hate being stared at. Especially agents like Clint, who are more concerned with watching other people than being watched. So he suddenly wants nothing more than to get the hell away from these ladies.

"Right, bed time. Mine's a little earlier than the girls', if you can believe it. So, Sarah, you think you can show me upstairs?"

He grins at her and then the neighbors, trying to make nice.

Sarah obediently drags Clint through the living room and into the hall, stopping there. Josephine is fast asleep on Clint's shoulder.

Sarah sighs. "You'd better wait, so she doesn't wake up. She'll never get back to sleep otherwise."

It doesn't take long for Steve and Peggy to bid the neighbors a good evening and close the door behind them. Gabe, having seen Falsworth and Morita trading positions, and makes his exit without saying anything to Clint - not that he said much to the man to begin with.

Rosalie beats both of her parents into the hallway. "If I get pajamas like yours can I have a bow to go with?"

Peggy sighs with relief when the door shuts, though she'll deny it. She slides her hand into Steve's lightly as they walk for the hall, small comfort contact for a much longer and busier day than anticipated.

"It's not a toy, Rosalie," Peggy says, though there's not entirely a denial of her request. There are already plans for teaching all of the girls how to shoot properly. She removes her hand from Steve's and reaches for Josephine, lifting her carefully in just such a way that she stays sleeping, only making a tiny gurgly noise. There's clear experience in the process.

Clint nods solemnly in response to Sarah's advice, and stays stock-still with Josephine on his shoulder until the others arrive. When Peggy reaches to take her from him, he offers her an apologetic smile.

I didn't mean to actually grab your child from you, ma'am. Please don't shoot me. He'd never actually say that out loud, but his expression says it all.

But then he just turns to Rosalie very seriously. "To tell you the truth, these clothes don't even really go with the bow. My real suit's much cooler."

Rosalie gives Clint a wide-eyed look, jamming her thumb into her mouth while she considers his statement. Steve scoops her up and draws her thumb out of her mouth again. "Rose-"

"Is it as cool as daddy's?"

Steve snorts and tips her forward until she's dangling toward the floor. Rosalie starts to squeal and then covers her mouth with both hands with a look toward Josephine, kicking her legs instead. Steve gives her a little hoist into the crook of his arm and carries her to the door of the bathroom before he sets her down.

"Go on, get yourself ready for bed and think about what you want to read tonight."

"I thought it was my turn." Sarah frowns. "We haven't finished Empire of the East."

"We won't for a while, either. Let your sister pick one tonight."

Sarah scowls, just a little, before saying, "Yes, papa," and joining her sister in the bathroom.

Rosalie reappears with a toothbrush hanging out of one side of her mouth and a hairbrush in one hand. "I'm going to be Captain America when dad gets old," she says to Clint, her words muffled by the toothbrush. A little splutter of paste runs out of the corner of her mouth.

"Rose.” Steve points toward the sink and she vanishes obediently to spit.

Peggy offers Clint a nod at the expression he shoots her; as much as she might not necessarily appreciate the action, it was a valid and successful plan, and the agent is a pro at cover up situations herself. And it diverged some suspicion from the neighbors. Good job, Hawkeye. Keep it up and you're bound to get into her good graces sooner rather than later.

Josephine wriggles at Rosalie's squeal, but she doesn't wake up -- just burrows her face further into Peggy, shifts more comfortably.

Sarah brushes her teeth accordingly, doesn't budge from the bathroom until she's done. She finishes before Rosalie and slinks out as her sister continues to spit. "I'm going to be like Mama," she explains. Because if Rosalie can announce her plans to Uncle Barton, Sarah certainly can, too.

Peggy puts her fingers under Sarah's chin and tilts the girl's head up, leaning over in a careful balancing act that keeps Josephine undisturbed to kiss her eldest daughter's forehead. "And you're well on your way," she says with a smile; Sarah beams proudly, folding her hands behind her back and half twirling her hips from side to side.

She glances at Clint. "But papa's uniform is still pretty cool."

Edited 2012-07-10 22:08 (UTC)

“I’m sure he’s glad you think so,” Clint says out of the corner of his mouth, before he can stop himself. Sure, many people appreciated the stars-and-stripes, but Barton had never really seen the appeal. Even though the Avengers are public, he doubts he’ll ever escape the shadows entirely. It’s just not in his nature.

But that aside, when he lets that line slip he has to turn back to Peggy again with another wide-eyed, almost apologetic look. “Ma’am.”

At the girls he just smiles, a bit less tentatively than before. It’s abundantly clear, to him at least, that they are more than cut out to take up their parents’ jobs. He’d talked about that once, to Natasha—if I ever have kids, I’m keeping them the hell away from SHIELD—but the bright symbolism of Steve’s role, and even the quieter, stealthier spin of Peggy’s was something far removed from his own life.

“Well,” Clint says after a moment. “You know the most important thing for heroes-in-training is to get to bed on time, right?”

Rose reappears then, the front of her clothes soaked, but otherwise clean.

"You don't?" The look she gives Clint is almost worried. "You don't think it's cool? Why not?"

"Never mind," Steve says. He ruffles her hair. She gives him a look - I just brushed that - and pursues the uniform question with dogged determination.

"It's for heroes. For hope, and protecting good things. For changing bad ones. Why don't you like it?"

"He didn't say he didn't like it, honey." Steve kneels, finger-combing her hair back into some kind of order. "It means a lot of things for different people. That's one of the reasons it matters. He doesn't have to feel like you do."

Rose clearly doesn't quite understand, but she doesn't question her dad. Instead she jams her thumb into her mouth, considering Clint's question. "Is that true about bed-time?"

Steve chuckles. "It's not wrong. Do you know what you want to read?"

"Narnia!" All questions of heroes-in-training and uniforms and flags are immediately forgotten. Rose goes running into the girls' room, stripping off her soaked shirt as she goes.

Far from being bothered by Clint's slip up, Peggy actually smirks. Just a bit, and not enough for her daughters to notice.

When Rosalie tramples off in excitement, Sarah holds her cool. At least momentarily. After a few seconds, she breaks into a grin of her own and runs after her sister, with quiet, whispery cries of "Rose, you're supposed to close the door before you change!"

Peggy adjusts Josephine carefully, and the toddler grumbles something in her sleep about "feddurs." She rubs her eyes and blinks awake for a moment, glares huffily at Clint, then tries to roll over and sleep again.

Rosalie, complete with a dry shirt, peers from the room and stares at her parents. Sarah slinks to look over her sister's shoulder as she asks, "Can Uncle Barton read to us tonight?"

Peggy frowns, in such a way that only Steve might recognize her displeasure. But her daughters are staring at her with pleading eyes, and she doesn't quite want to turn them down right away. "Wasn't your father in the middle of a chapter?"

Rosalie shakes her head. "He finished the other night!"

Reading’s never been on top of Clint’s priorities list, to the point where Narnia only makes sense as a reference to him because of the movie and a certain SNL sketch from a few years ago—or many years in the future? Damn, time travel complicated things. He is never going to be able to fully wrap his head around this.

But that aside, Sarah’s request puts him on the spot. Ever move he’s made to create distance between himself and the girls has backfired horribly. Damn it, Barton, stop being so utterly irresistible. But he can’t joke it off forever, and he really can’t ignore the fact that Steve and Peggy are probably ready to rip him apart if they sense any level of threat for him. He’s never had to think about Captain America not being on his side, and it’s a scary thought.

But damn if he can’t stand to disappoint those girls.

“I guess I could,” he says, after a moment, before shooting Peggy another glance. “I mean, if that’s alright with you.”

Steve touches Peggy's arm - we'll be right there - but doesn't answer Clint, except to move between the man and his girls' room. It's not because of anything Clint himself has done. It's another silent promise to support his wife, whatever her decision might be.

He feels the thump of Rosalie hitting his leg a moment before Sarah peers around his hip.

"Please, momma?" Rosalie knows exactly who has the final say.

She appreciates the gesture and the movement, knows that he'll do whatever she decides. She looks to each of her daughters briefly. Sarah doesn't dare ask again with words, but her eyes are pleading just as much as her sister's.

Peggy gives Steve a look. It's a bit of a stare, dictating that if she agrees to this, he is going in that room and not leaving until Barton does, too. She won't feel comfortable otherwise and being on Josephine duty right now means she's unable to do so herself. She almost wants to take the girls into their own bed tonight.

"Fine," she says, but her tone is not without warning as she turns her gaze on Clint and bores a series of heavy threats. Something quickly becoming standard this evening, even as he proves himself the opposite of a villain.

Then she turns to Sarah and Rosalie, and gives them a look. A look of do not try to escape bedtime. "But this is not an excuse to stay up late, girls, do you understand?"

It's really fun constantly being under the eye of such a dangerous woman who doesn't at all trust him. It really makes Clint feel right at home, and eager to spend more time with these children. Except, wait, no. It's entirely the opposite. And though he's not much of an undercover spy, he's had the training, so on comes the smile and he tips his head to the girls.

"We'll be done quick, right? As long as you girls are helping me out." And he steps towards them, but waits for Steve before getting closer. He's cocky, not an idiot.

Steve wants to trust Clint. He really does. But this is his home, those are his girls, and that is his wife looking like if she could spit bullets Clint would already be dead.

He goes into the girls' room first, ushering them along. In part, it reflects the rest of the house - books, though a lot of them are children's books instead of textbooks, art, world maps on the walls. There's also a dollhouse that looks like it was built by hand, full of furniture and dolls made the same way. One of them has a teeny tiny carved machine gun.

There are a few more childish posters, educational-type things or enlarged covers of books. One of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe is pasted slightly crooked above the checkered bed that Rosalie throws herself onto. Sarah waits until the door is closed before she sits down on her own bed, fixes Clint with a beady look, and says, "Are you really from the future?"

"Uncle Howard can't have babies." Rosalie rolls onto her back. "That's weird."

Steve struggles very hard not to smile. "You two were supposed to be in the kitchen."

"We were in the kitchen," Sarah says, her expression serene.

Rosalie sits up. "Momma will be here soon. Are you really from the future?"

Soldier walk a certain way--they have a posture and gait defined by what they are. And spies are much the same way, except that their patterns are entirely different. Clint walks so that his feet don't make a sound, and he doesn't stand straight--he hunches as though he's ready to tuck and roll at any moment. When they enter the girls' room, he finds himself a corner, folds his hands behind his back, and observes.

And then they ask more questions and catch him off-guard yet again.

"Well, to be fair, I always just thought of it as the present." He's never been one to talk down to children, and duplicity isn't in his nature. So he answers honestly.

"This is the present," Sarah says. "You're here, right?"

"You're Susan." Rosalie tugs at her blankets and Steve goes over to pull them back and help her under the sheets. "You're like Susan in Narnia."

"He's Peter." Sarah climbs off her bed to fold her sheets and blankets back and climbs in, waiting on Steve to tuck her in properly.

"He's Susan. He has a bow." Rosalie puts both hands up to frame her mouth and hisses at Clint, "She's my favorite."

"He's a boy." Sarah looks from Rosalie to Clint and back like she's worried she might be falling out of the conversation. Steve sits down on her bed and brushes her hair back from her face, a reassuring little gesture.

"Girls. You can settle this in the morning, all right? Do you actually want to read, or do you want to talk to Agent Barton?" He's pretty much folded to the inevitable - his girls take after his wife, and they're going to find things out one way or another.

"What's the future like? Did Uncle Howard make cars that fly?"

"Are there very many women agents?"

"What's your favorite food?"

"Susa--" Clint almost chokes, but manages not to. Again, children's literature isn't in his normal register. So the names are just those to him, and having a bow in common doesn't endear Susan to him very much.

But then the questions roll in and he has no time to think, instead focusing everything on keeping up.

"Flying cars? No, not unless you count jets. Tony's got a suit though, it flies him around--"

At the mention of female agents, he smirks. "Sure. Our second-in-command is a woman named Hill, who's about as tough as they come. And my partner, her name is Natasha, she's the most notorious secret agent of all time. Most people call her the Black Widow."

His tone distinctly shifts when he mentions Natasha. It's warmer, almost wistful. And then he realizes that the longer he stays here, the more chance there is that he'll never see her again.

"Food?" Now, there's a safe topic. "Pizza, I guess. Or apples." He wonders if they're old enough to tell William Tell jokes.

"Black Widow," Sarah whispers, like she's trying out the name. "Mama is Agent Thirteen."

"He knows that, right? He's from the future." Rosalie pulls a book from her bedside table and starts paging through the pictures as she talks. "Has there ever been a girl Captain America?"

"There hasn't been any Captain America but papa. You heard what he said." Sarah settles a bit more under the blankets. "How famous is mama? As famous as the Black Widow?"

"He said they hadn't got daddy out, he didn't say there wasn't any other Captain Americas." Rosalie drapes the book over her face. "Why do secret agents want to be famous?"

Steve watches Clint through the barrage of questions, the way the man gentles at the mention of his partner.

No question about it: they're getting Agent Barton back to his own time, whatever it takes.

"Last questions, you two. One each."

Both girls go quiet, weighing out the most important things they want to know. Rosalie still has the book over her face.

Sarah scoops up a stuffed bear and holds it against her shoulder the way Peggy held Josephine. "Are you scared?"

Steve sighs. Sometimes he wishes - however briefly - that his children weren't quite as sharp or to the point. He's not going to tell Clint that he doesn't have to answer. It's up to him, one way or the other.

I seem to be what I'm not, you see. I'm wearing my heart like a crown.

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