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The place the 'New' Avengers have commandeered - or been granted but commandeered sounds better - in Wakanda isn’t quite home, the surroundings more something he associates with missions than safety, but Clint’s not really one to be overly fussed about where he calls home. Living the life he’s lived, you learn quickly that being the place you sleep regularly is usually a pretty shitty reason to call somewhere home. The whole concept is overrated.
Well, it had been until Laura. Building a home with her - for her - had… well it’d been good. Nice. Clint had gotten used to thinking of that little farm as home, figured it would always be there to come back to.
And it still is. There. Just, not something he can go back to right now.
But that’s the thing about homes; they’re much more than bricks and mortar. And while you can’t move the bricks, you can move the other things.
‘Daddy!’ Lila cries, running the last few steps across the runway and jumping into his arms. Clint catches her easily, swinging her into one hip so he can pull the running Cooper against the other, stumbling a little at the force he hits with. Cooper buries his head in Clint’s hip while he ruffles his son’s hair and kisses his daughter's cheeks.
‘Where’s Mommy?’ he asks, looking up and seeing no sight of Laura.
Cooper waves a hand at the small jet they’d come in. ‘She’s changing Nate; Aunt Nat’s helping.’ He makes a wave. ‘Nate stinks .’
Clint laughs. ‘How’s about we go get your things and I’ll show you your new rooms.’ Lila wriggles until Clint puts her down and the two kids race back to the jet.
Something creeps down Clint’s back; the shiver you get when someone is watching you. With slow and careful movements, he looks over his shoulder to try and catch the observer. He’s good at this and if he does it right, it’s likely they’ll never realise he’s noticed them watching.
But when he catches sight of the man staring, it’s obvious he’s not trying to hide it. Scott Lang is standing in the window that overlooks the private runway of T’Challa’s home, their current hideout. He’s not doing anything but staring, his eyes following Clint’s children as they try and get their bags off the jet without tripping up the laughing Laura. And there’s something in his body language…
He looks up and meets Clint’s eyes. Then, lowers them and walks away but not before Clint catches sight of the longing in his eyes.
*********
Two days later Clint’s watching Lila and Cooper chase another around the garden playing their favourite game of Aunt Nat vs Dad. Lila lost the coin flip - and it had needed a coin flip - so she’s playing as Dad, mini bow and foam arrows in her hands. She’s a good shot with it, hitting Cooper with every second shot, to his displeasure.
Clint’s sure he’s not supposed to be as proud as he is. But Cooper and Lila are good shots because they want to be, some form of hero worship for him coming into play. There’s nothing forcing them, no mentor pushing for perfection. Just childish play.
It’s good.
‘Don’t aim for the eyes!’ Clint calls out. ‘Or you’ll lose that bow for a week!’ Lila gives him a glare worthy of Nat - who probably taught it to her actually. But it’s not Nat’s glare and Clint’s been immune to all but the worst of those for years. He in turns gives her the sternest look he can manage and she ducks her head.
The next shot hits Cooper’s chest as he argues that he just disarmed Lila with ‘super hitting’. Clint smirks at the way they’ve summed up Nat’s abilities.
‘Yours?’ a male voice asks, and Clint turns to see Scott Lang standing behind him, shifting from foot to foot.
Clint nods and pats at the bench beside him. It takes Lang a moment to get the idea but he does take the invitation and sits down. ‘Yeah,’ Clint says. ‘Cooper’s six, Lila’s just turned five and my youngest Nathaniel is nearly a year old now.’ He knows he’s got a soft smile on his face but he can’t help it.
Lang nods. ‘How… how’d you get them here?’ he asks and there’s something in his voice, a note of hope.
‘I didn’t,’ Clint says and watches how Lang - Scott - flinches, like Clint’s words were a particularly hard blow. ‘Nat - Natasha - did. They were safe, you know? From Stark and everyone. Oh under supervision but not even Ross and his goons were going to go after kids, no matter who their Dad is.’
‘Then why did Na- she bring them?’
Clint meets Scott’s eyes, holding his glance. ‘Because my wife refused to stay safe when she could stand by my side. And we agreed, way back before all this,’ he waves at his body and Lila’s bow, ‘that where we go, the kids go. We’re a family and we’re staying together.’
Scott sags, something sad and devastated coming into his face. ‘So it was your wife who got your daughter - your kids here?’
It dawns on Clint why Scott is here; why he’s been watching Lila from the shadows. ‘If we could, we would bring her here,’ he says and Scott looks away. ‘If it was in our power and it was safe for your ex-wife and her, we would do everything in our power to get your daughter to your side.’
‘But it’s not, huh?’
‘It’s safer for her to stay where she is,’ Clint agrees. ‘Laura’s willing to follow me, to uproot herself because she, for some reason, loves me. And Nat’s so good at deception, Steve’s got money on the surveillance team not noticing until next month they’ve left our house back there.’
‘What’s your money on?’ Scott looks up now and Clint elects to ignore the glassy look in his eyes.
Clint smirks. ‘My money’s on no one noticing until Stark gets guilty enough to visit and realises the family living there isn’t my family.’
‘So next year then?’
They both laugh, Scott’s tiny and wet but a laugh none the less. ‘Something like that.’
Scott sighs. ‘Good talk then,’ he says and gets up, not looking at Lila as he walks away.
Clint watches him go, an idea in his head.
*********
It takes T’Challa two days to set up and Clint has to call in a couple of favours he’s surprised to realise he’s still owed. Perk of having been everywhere; you know so many people you forget who owes you what but they never do. A couple of favours he might’ve saved if he’d known he was still owed them, but hey, he’s lived this long without cashing them so he can live with losing them now.
It’s worth it to see the look on Scott’s face when he’s led into a private room - with the largest screen they could find - to see Cassie Lang in high definition, waving at him from beside her pet ant. ‘Daddy!’ she beams, bouncing in her spot. Behind her, her mother waves then walks out of shot, clearly giving them their privacy to talk.
Scott looks back at Clint, who’s about to do the same thing, wonder and joy in the light in his eyes and the grin, so like his daughter’s, on his face. ‘How?’
‘I know people. You’ve at least a couple of hours; go nuts.’ Clint turns and leaves, deciding he’ll tell Scott about the fact it’s a regular, weekly link later. Let him have this moment first, then give him the even better news.
No way is he telling Scott T’Challa will be able to get Cassie to visit for her birthday - through a series of coincidences untraceable to Scott for everyone’s safety - until the day she arrives. The look on his face is going to be glorious.
It’s the least they can do.