Clint
It was late, when Clint came back from his latest mission and all he wanted to do was raid the fridge for leftovers (hopefully pizza), shower and then sleep for a week or two. He did not expect to see the kitchen illuminated at fucking 3 o’clock in the morning and most of all he did not expect Tony Stark carrying his sobbing infant and…
“So the compressor in a turbojet is driven by the turbine and that rotates at an enormous speed so it adds energy to the airflow which it compresses into a smaller space at the same time…”
Really? He explained the workings of a turbojet to a baby? Only Stark… Really. The archer laughed silently only to be baffled once more when the engineer paused his technical rambling to cradle his daughter a bit more.
“Come on, sweet pea! Yeah, I mean you, you little ball of cotton candy.” Tony all but cooed and kissed the girl’s nose. “Don’t you think it’s nappy-time? Yeahh you think it’s nappy-time! Daddy promises to cuddle with you but only if you stop crying. Mommy will cuddle too! But she has had a rough day and we need to be really quiet…” His voice turned lower towards the end of the sentence until it was only a whisper. And the kid, she seemed awed by her father’s technique and now silently reached out to boop his nose.
Stark himself smiled at her as if she were his moon and star – which she probably was. Clint had never seen the man so enraptured. Not even with Pepper or his tech.
Who would have thought? He knew Natasha had been regretting her assessment of the genius for some time now but this was still a sight to behold.
With a last look back to the strange pair, Clint left for his floor hoping he would find a lonely candy bar or a pack of potato chips somewhere in his cupboards.
