Here We Go

4: Quick Little Bastard

[Three Months Later]

"When do kids even start talking?" Clint whined, rolling upside down on the couch. He was staring at Peter whom was seated on the floor in front of the couch, looking at him.

"18 months," Natasha informed him.

"How old is he?"

"First birthday is on the 15th."

"What's today?"

"The third."

"Ugh." Clint sat up and pulled Peter onto his lap. "You and me are going to the park," he told the child. Peter smiled and grabbed his uncles shoulder, pulling himself up so he was standing. Then he waddled across the couch to Natasha and pulled on her arm.

"Yeah, I'll come too Pete," she said with a smile. Peter giggled and sat down between them. "You get his stuff, I'll put clothes on him." Peter only had on his tiny shorts and a really dirty tank top.

"Yeah, he needs a new shirt."

"You're the one that spilled the grape juice," Natasha reminded him. Clint rolled his eyes and went off to find Peter's stroller. Natasha brought the tiny brunet to his room and grabbed a clean outfit for him.

She changed him into tan shorts and a blue button up shirt and he looked adorable. "Which shoes d'you want, Pete?" She held up his two pairs; one pair of purple and black sneakers and a pair of red and blue velcro shoes. The small child stared up at her in confusion so Natasha decided for him and tossed the other ones to the floor, strapping the blue and reds to his feet.

"Awe, he's so cute," Clint cooed as Natasha and Peter entered the living room.

"What the actual hell are you wearing right now?" Clint had on a red and white checkered button up with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He was also wearing black shorts and brown boat shoes, along with his purple sunglasses and watch.

"I think I look pretty good."

"Well, no. You really don't."

"Whatever. I'm not changing again. Let's go." They went down to the garage and Natasha waited for Clint to put Peter in his carseat.

"I'm driving," she insisted, holding her hand out for the keys. He sighed and tossed them to her, sliding into the black convertible. Clint reached to change the radio station but she swatted his hand away.

"Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cake-hole."

"I knew you were paying attention to that show," said Clint with a grin.

"It's a good show."

Clint smirked. "I know."

***

Clint was laying in the grass, mouthing the words to Highway To Hell by AC/DC as the song blared through his earbuds. Peter was sitting in front of Natasha, ripping grass out of the ground with his tiny fists and piling it up. Nat was watching him, an amused smile on her face.

She saw a blur of black go by and instantly went on high alert.

"Clint, get up," she ordered, shaking his foot. He opened his eyes and sat up, music still blaring. He took out one earbud and raised one eyebrow. "A weird blur passed by."

"What color and where'd it go?"

"Black. Over there." Natasha pointed west, toward the edge of the field.

"I'll go check it out. I have a feeling I might know what it is," he said carefully, turning his music off and getting up slowly. Before he could go anywhere however, the blur flew by and knocked him over. Peter crawled over and grabbed his face, staring at him intently.