Author's Note:
Hallo, Liblinge! Welcome to the fourth installment of this series. This is the last fic I have completed already before I start transferring my WIP here as well. There will be four chapters to this fic, and to make up for taking so long to update, have two chapters today! Enjoy!
lexthemess
"Daddy!" Bruce squealed in protest through his giggles. Tony's fingers were dancing over the baby's stomach, tickling him enthusiastically while Bruce tried half-heartedly to get away.
Clint smiled while he watched them. It was clear that Tony was anxious about leaving Bruce, but he had managed to take Bruce's mind off it.
"Sir," J.A.R.V.I.S. said, and it almost sounded as if the A.I. regretted having to interrupt the moment, "Miss Potts seems to be getting impatient. I estimate you have two minutes, nineteen seconds before she comes to fetch you herself."
Tony sighed, hands stilling. He plastered a smile on his face, not the press release grin, but the smile that he used when he was trying to convince the family, Bruce especially, that he was okay. He leaned over and kissed a still-squirming Bruce's forehead. "I gotta go, now, Baby Boy."
Bruce frowned, a touch petulant, but said, "Okay, Daddy." He pushed himself into Tony's arms for last-minute cuddles.
"Come on, Tony," Mom said as she entered the room. "I only get three freebie kills a year, and I don't want to waste one on Pepper just because she got impatient."
"Don't say the K word around the baby, Tash," Tony scolded. "Isn't that right, Brucie?" he cooed, turning back to the baby in question.
Bruce nodded his agreement, though it was clear that he didn't care about whatever was happening. He was simply soaking up as much of his daddy's attention as he could before the man had to leave.
"Of course. Now, come on." Mom walked over to the pair and kissed the top of Bruce's head before going to Clint. "Be good," she said, kissing his forehead. "Love you."
"Love you, too, Mom," he replied.
"Tell Pepper that we're on our way, J.A.R.V.I.S." Mom strode toward the elevator.
"Yes, Miss Romanov."
Tony peppered kisses over Bruce's face, much to Bruce's obvious delight. "I love you, Brucie. I'll be back as soon as I can. Alright, Baby?"
"I love you, too, Daddy."
Tony rose from his knees in front of the couch. As Mom pushed Tony towards the elevator, he called, "Don't forget to put him down for a nap at some point, and no sweets before dinner. Unless he gives you the kicked-puppy eyes, in which case, you may as well just give in." Rushing to get the words out before the doors closed, Tony said, "Love you lots, Brucie! Bye!" The doors slid shut on Tony's words.
Bruce stared at the elevator for a few moments, looking a little lost and alone, and it was painfully evident that he was trying not to cry.
Clint hurried over to the couch Bruce was sitting on. He held his arms out for a hug, but didn't touch Bruce, uncertain that he would be welcome. He needn't have worried, though; the baby launched himself into Clint's arms, shuddering slightly with barely-suppressed sobs.
"Hey, hey, it's okay," Clint said, doing his best to calm Bruce, who was clenching fistfuls of Client's shirt. "Your daddy will be back soon." He looked helplessly to the ceiling for advice.
J.A.R.V.I.S., the beautiful piece of work he was, said, "Sir often uses Cão and a pacifier to soothe the Young Master."
"Cão?" Bruce whimpered into Clint's shoulder, hands gripping tighter.
"Yeah, Bruce. Want to go get him? I bet he misses you."
Bruce nodded. "Cão."
"Alright, come on." Clint guided the baby to his feet and led him to the bedroom. Bruce ran over to Cão, who was sitting in the rocking chair, and brought the plushie to his chest in a tight hug. Clint grabbed a pacifier from the drawers by the crib and held it up to Bruce's mouth as an offering. Bruce accepted it, taking it into his mouth and sucking on it gratefully. He let go of Cão with one hand and used it to clutch at one of Clint's.
"That better, Bruce?" Clint asked as he wiped tears from Bruce's eyes.
The baby gave a small nod.
"Wanna watch cartoons?"
Another nod, and then Bruce waddled towards the living room, dragging Clint behind him.
Bruce pushed gently against Clint's stomach, and Clint took the hint, sitting down on the couch. Bruce then lumbered on top of him, making himself comfortable. Clint couldn't hold back a small chuckle, amused by the demands. It was a little flattering in a way, too. Bruce was usually so shy and nervous that you couldn't help but feel a little honored when he was comfortable enough to relax and let you know when he wanted something.
"What do you want to watch?" Clint questioned.
Through his pacifier, Bruce managed, "Oomay ooms."
"You get that, J.A.R.V.I.S.?" Clint checked, having no idea what the baby meant.
"Yes, Master Clint," the A.I. confirmed as Looney Tunes began playing on the tv.
Oh. He mentally compared Looney Tunes to the jumble of syllables Bruce had spit out and decided that it was similar enough.
They spent the next half hour watching the little sketches, and if asked, Clint would deny that he was enjoying himself. At that point, Bruce turned to Clint and tugged on the older's sleeve, drawing his attention to Bruce. "Ersy."
It was easy enough to determine that "ersy," meant "thirsty." Shifting Bruce from his lap, Clint said, "Alright, Bud. I'll get you some juice."
"Amb bookies?"
Clint shook his head. "No sweets before dinner." He wasn't going to give in to the puppy eyes. He wasn't. Not even when they started looking glassy and- "Okay, okay, cookies," Clint heard himself concede, and then vowed to eat however many raw eggs it took to regain his manliness.
Bruce made a happy noise and put away the tears.
Clint walked to the kitchen, muttering to himself. He poured some apple juice into a purple sippy cup and got the package of chocolate chunk cookies. He grabbed a soda for himself and went back to the living room.
As soon as Clint was sitting down again, Bruce tucked himself into his lap, pawing for the cookies.
"Geez, Rugrat, hold on." Clint set the juice and the soda on the coffee table and opened the package of cookies, handing it over to the impatient Bruce.
The baby pulled the pacifier out of his mouth and launched his attack against the snacks, devouring half the box before slowing down. Bruce sipped his juice slowly, watching the cartoons with a single-minded intensity that was almost unnerving. Bruce held the cookies out to Clint, who took them hesitantly, not putting it past the little monster to steal them back. He didn't though, so Clint helped himself to a few, watching the kid in his lap for any sudden movements.