Author's Note: Hello! Thank you to everyone who's keeping up with this story and a special thanks to those who review. This is Chapter 8, enter Natasha... Hope you enjoy!


Chapter 8: Guess Who's Coming to Dinner?

Clint Barton

"He can't stay here," I growl into the phone. "I don't care how lost he is. After what he put you through—"

"Think about what he went through, Clint," Nat growls back. "Stop playing overprotective big brother and put Hawkeye on the phone. That guy takes care of his teammates."

"I am taking care of my teammates," I snap. "You are my teammate."

"He's got nowhere else to go," Nat breathes. "Clint, please. He was comfortable there."

"I've got the twins here. The house will be packed with people, and last I checked, Bruce wasn't a fan of Wanda," I say.

"That was then and in that timeframe you weren't a fan of her either," Nat says. "It doesn't count. And we've stayed in that house with almost the full team before."

"That was for a few days, Nat. SHIELD's been locked down for a week, and there's been no word on the wires about…"

"He's one extra person. Just because he… he ran off…"

"And hurt you," I put in. "He hurt you after you opened up to him. He couldn't even talk to you before he ran away."

"Clint, he—shit. I didn't tell you everything, okay! So—so what? I've got him with me. We've got a rental car, we're halfway there. Should we turn around?"

I groan as I pace the wooden floor of the kitchen. Not even an hour ago, I'd eaten breakfast with my family, kissed Lila and Cooper goodbye and watched my wife pack them into the car for school. I hear sounds of the twins moving around the house, running water and dropping things.

"Fine. Bring him. He can sleep on the couch in the living room."

I can hear Nat's raised brow, but no way am I going to say anything that might hint that I approve of Bruce Banner sleeping in the same room with Nat. If I had my way, he would never breathe in the same room as Nat.

"Okay," Nat says after a pause. "We'll be there in a few hours." She disconnects.

If the damn phone didn't cost so much, I'd throw it across the room. Damn Bruce Banner. I sit down on a bar stool at the kitchen counter trying to stir up any good will for Bruce. The last thing I want is to subject my family to a hostile environment for an unset amount of time. Bruce: genius, introvert, awkward, decent guy—or rather he was.

My hands clench. I can't look past it. Nat gave herself to Bruce, told him everything, and he hadn't realized how important it was. He'd thrown it away. Nat doesn't tell people about her past. I only know because of a mission I was given to assassinate her, and Fury knows because he gave me that mission. And hell, Loki knows because he hijacked it from my head when he controlled my mind. I shudder. I'm so glad that asshat's dead.

Laura doesn't even know the full truth because Nat couldn't bear to even let me share all of it with her while Nat had stood outside of the room. Bruce was let into Nat's special circle, and… I shake my head. No, thoughts like these won't help me be civil. Maybe I'm being irrational and biased, but Nat's my little sister. I'm supposed to be this way when it comes to her.

"Careful, Old Man, you wrinkle your forehead when you think that hard. Those lines will stay there forever."

I glower at the brat, only seeing his tail-end as he roots through the pantry. He comes out with an unopened box of graham crackers and hops onto the stool next to mine.

"What are you wrinkling over?" he asks as he frees his snack from the packaging. It's a marvel watching how much food the brat can put away and still not have it be enough fuel for him.

"Your Aunt Natasha's on her way," I say, reaching over to steal a graham cracker from him. There're a few more boxes in the pantry. He can get more if he wants.

"Aunt?"

"Well, I think of her as my sister, and Lila and Coop call her 'Aunt'."

"This is getting weird, Old Man." Pietro stuffs a cracker in his mouth. "Besides, Natasha is too hot to be my aunt."

I stare at him hard, recalling Wanda's story about his affair with a much older woman, and then the crazy Hydra relationships. None of that sits right with me. It's not normal, not healthy. "Pietro, maybe we should talk about…"—oh man—"…sex."

He chokes on his graham cracker and I thump his back a few times.

"Wh—what?" he croaks. "Why would you…?"

Oh God. This is awful. I've got nothing prepared. "I know you started at a really young age."

"Dumnezuele! She told you?" He looks absolutely mortified. He holds up both hands. "Look, I don't need to talk about sex. I know how to do it. I know to use protection so there are no babies."

"That's not it, brat," I say gently. I don't want to do this, but if I don't, who will? "I… just want to make sure you know about the best reasons to have sex with someone."

Pietro covers his face with his hands and moans. "I'm going to kill Wanda."

"Hey, go easy. She was just correcting me on something I'd assumed." I set my hands on the counter.

"Which was?"

"That neither one of you had had experiences yet." I sigh. "You were so young when you went into Hydra, and you've only been free of them for a few weeks. And in those weeks you haven't had time… so I just thought you were virgins. I never thought that you would…"

"Sleep with any of the girls I bunked with in Hydra? It was awkward with Wanda there knowing what I was doing, but there were times: between tests, in hallways, bathrooms."

Oh God, I don't want to hear this, but when I turn to study Pietro, he's uncovered his face. The shadows in his eyes capture me.

"It was always desperate, fast, and most of the time, I never saw the person again." His voice cracks, and he turns away to cough. The brat sounds like hell. I get up to pour him some water. By the time I come back, he's clearing his throat. I press the Dora the Explorer cup into his hands and watch him drink.

"Did you care for the girls?" I ask. "Were you ever in love?"

He shrugs and stares into the cup.

I'm an ass. "I'm sorry."

"Her name was Alina. She joined the experiment when we did. She had a twin brother named Andrei. We weren't together much in the first year or so, but after that we'd end up in the same rooms. She was there when the doctors took Wanda away and I needed someone. They—they had taken Andrei, the same way they had done Wanda, a year before and he'd come back under a sheet."

He drinks more water. "She was beautiful, or at least I thought she was, maybe other people wouldn't think so. She was so driven, like Wanda. Even after losing Andrei, she still had faith in the experiments. She could move things with her mind, but it was hard for her. So many headaches."

He looks at me, eyes so dark they're like black holes into his soul. I reach out and take his shoulders. "It's okay. You don't have to tell me anymore."

He shakes his head. "You want to know if I know the best reasons."

His melancholy smile makes me want to cuss myself out. But how could I know my questions would bring this out. If Fury doesn't come up with a mission to smoke out all of the scientists who had anything to do with the "enhanced" experiments, I'll go rogue.

"We were 17 when we first made love," Pietro says, his voice soft with reverie. "It was the first time I'd ever wanted to go slow and be gentle. I didn't know before then what it was like to have another person to open up to, to love, and how different it was from loving Wanda. That love was…" he shakes his head. "I just know that I haven't felt it again. That is a 'best' reason, to share your body and soul with someone else and have them take yours and understand and accept and love you back."

He swallows hard and looks at his knees. "And then she went away for testing and came back another body under a sheet."

I sigh, pulling the kid into a light hug. He rests against me, not fighting it. "I'm sorry," I whisper. I wonder if Wanda's ever been in love. Damned if I ask her, but these kids blow my mind with what they don't and do know about life.

"It's okay," he says, pulling away from me and going back to his graham crackers. He gives me a sidelong glance. "Milk would be okay too."

I stare him down as he continues to crunch away. "You got jokes."

"You got milk?" He finishes the water and pushes the empty cup across the counter toward me.

I snatch the cup. "I got something for you all right. Might not be milk."

"I'll tell Laura that all I asked for was a glass of milk, which is full of protein and vitamins for strong and healthy bones, and you refused me."

"I should be recording this! Laura says you aren't a brat, but it's because you don't do this around her," I grumble as I make my way to the fridge. "I think Murphy's out to get me."

"Who is Murphy?" Pietro asks, mouth obviously full.

"Ah, it's just a saying. Whenever things can go wrong, they do. It's called Murphy's Law. First, it's Nat and Bruce, and now I get stuck with you—"

"Being stuck with me is a privilege."

"You keep on believing that," I snort, pouring his milk. I put my back to him to hide my smirk. Wanda says Pietro's doesn't bounce back as fast as he pretends to, and I know the kid's got some deep-set issues, but he's humoring me and it's damn amusing. I work the smile off my lips before I face him and give him the milk.

Half the box of graham crackers is gone. He breaks a cracker in half, dunks it in the cup and swirls it around, letting it partially dissolve. "So, Aunt Natasha is coming. If she's family, why are you upset about it? Does it have something to do with Bruce Banner?"

"It has everything to do with Bruce. Green bastard."

"Did she find him?" Pietro asks, eating his soggy cracker and drinking crumb-filled milk.

"Yeah, and she's bringing him here to stay for a while." I want to beat my head on the counter. "But I don't want him here, not after how he treated her."
Pietro nods. "He hurt your sister, and now you hate him. I understand that."

Huh. Of course he does. "It's hard to look past that. Logic says Bruce is all twisted up inside, with the Hulk and hating violence and all the chaos that happened."

Pietro sets down the crackers and contemplates me. "Some of the violence and chaos happened because of Wanda and me. So, we contributed to Bruce hurting your sister. Do you..."

"No!" I snap. "I don't blame you two for anything. Get that out of your head now."

Pietro shrugs, but doesn't start eating again.

"Hey." I reclaim my stool and nudge him with my elbow. "Eat. Nobody's gonna want the rest of those after your germy ass breathed all over them."

He chuckles. "No one around here seems worried about my germs."

"Because only someone as rundown as you are would get as sick," I say. "How are you feeling anyway?"

Another shrug, but he goes after the graham crackers again. "What are you going to do about Bruce?"

"Welcome him. I have to," I say. "But I'm not a good actor. So, I won't be able to pretend I want him here."

"So you'll avoid him?" Pietro dunks another cracker. "The house isn't big enough for that."

"I know!" Ugh. I would pull at my hair, but I'm sure the brat would come up with some kind of premature balding joke. He's not getting anymore ammo from me.

"You could make him sleep and take his meals in the barn." Pietro looks so innocent when he says it I almost buy that he means it, until he laughs.

"Oh, ha-ha." I whack him on the shoulder. "Just you wait until Wanda brings home somebody you don't think is good enough for her."

Pietro raises a brow. "You don't think Bruce is good enough for Natasha? Because he hurt her, or because…"

"He's damaged." Oh no, I didn't mean to say that, but now it's out. I never approved of the relationship from the start. "I don't hold that against him, but Nat's been hurt, used, abused, brainwashed, you name it, it happened to her. She needs somebody normal, stable. Not some guy who turns into a green monster when he gets mad and then spends the rest of his life moping about it. If thing go bad, he'll run instead of trying to work it out with her, and I'm afraid she'll… regress."

"Regress?"

"Before she and I clicked, before Laura and the kids, Nat was cold, ruthless. She only worked for SHIELD because she didn't want to be killed. That was her only alternative then: work for us or die. It helped that SHIELD paid her well too, but that's how it was. It took years for her to come around. She's still… getting there, but you can ask Laura about how far Nat's come. And now she's ready to try a real relationship with someone, and she picks Bruce Banner. Why not Steve? He's got his problems yes, but he's Captain America. And now Bruce screwed up and ran just like I knew he would. And she tracked him down, even while on a job, and is dragging his ass back here to sleep on my couch."

"And Natasha knows how you feel?" Pietro asks.

"She knows." I put my elbows on the counter. "She just doesn't care. She's in love with the guy." And there's nothing I can do about that but wait for her heart to be crushed and hope I can help her fix it.

"But you are willing to try to support her anyway. You're letting Bruce stay here, and you're willing to try to avoid him since you can't pretend to play nice." Pietro claps a hand on my shoulder. "You're a good brother. I would take a guy who hurt Wanda over to the side, punch him in the face and the gut, and threaten to kill him if he made any kind of contact with my sister ever again. You're being diplomatic."

I blink at the skinny kid beside me with a graham-cracker-crumb milk moustache trying to sound tough. It makes me laugh. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it." I get side-eyed again. "But if you're really thankful, you'll get me more milk."

"You little…" I hear the sound of Laura's car pulling up. "Sure, kid, I'll get your milk."


(~*~)

Family dinner with Bruce Banner goes just like I thought it would, awkwardly. Laura tries to start conversations with Nat that include Bruce and me, and Bruce grunts and I roll my eyes. Lila and Coop are like Golden Retrievers that smell a steak, and can't help but ask blunt questions about the Hulk smashing up cities. And Nat tries to turn the conversation, but when it turns to the kids now wanting to know if Bruce and Nat will get married, she shuts up and Laura sends the kids to eat dinner in front of the TV.

The twins stay out of the entire affair, Pietro claiming a headache and going to bed early, and Wanda wanting to sit with him and read. Damn deserters. They left me alone on the battlefield. But it's not battle, it's just dinner.

I eat like my food's gonna run away, not even chewing some of it, in a rush to be done. "I'll take dinner to the twins!"

"I'll take dinner to the twins," Laura says, staring me down. "You guys relax and talk." She stares Nat down too and smiles at Bruce. "And there's vanilla bean ice cream in the freezer. Clint was supposed to make peach cobbler, but he—"

"Hey! The lasagna is a work of art," I say. "I put my foot in it." And it's true. I stewed about Bruce and Nat the whole time I was making it and got a bit more creative than planned, adding veggies and different cheeses and meats. I didn't have time to make Laura's peach cobbler. And I swear it was like I told her I forgot to pay the mortgage and we were losing the house from her reaction.

"It—it was really good," Bruce stammers. "Best I've had." The man looks at me like a guy trying to win approval from his fiancé's father. Lila and Coop's questions about Nat and Bruce getting married swarm my thoughts and I give Bruce a Hawkeye scowl.

"Behave Clint!" Laura snaps at me as she fixes two plates with hearty helpings of lasagna and salad. She sighs. "I don't think I'll be able to carry both of these by myself. Bruce, do you think you could help me out?"

"Oh—uh—yes! Sure! H—here!" Bruce almost knocks the table over as he springs up.

Laura hands him a plate. "Follow me."

And they leave me alone with Nat. She huffs. I huff back and start gathering dirty dishes. Nat joins me as I walk to the sink. I put plates and glasses in the sink and turn on the hot water. I don't believe in dishwashers. There's no way everything gets clean in those things.

"You hate doing dishes," I say.

"Yeah, but that doesn't make me ungrateful. I don't mind helping out," she says. She adds green dish soap to the water and watches the suds form for a second, then looks up at me. "Clint? Do you want to talk?"

"What's there to say? You made your choice."

"I did," she agrees. "Clint." She shakes her head. "I love him. I can't just give him up right now. He's struggling and I can help him."

"You don't get into a romantic relationship to help someone. You can just be his friend and do that," I growl.

"I don't want to just be friends with him." She reaches into the soapy water and starts scrubbing a plate with a yellow sponge. "I wish you could try to understand."

"He's not good enough, Nat." I put it out there. "You said it, he needs help. You don't need someone who needs help."

"Because I'm messed up too, right?" Nat laughs bitterly. "We'll both freak out one day and go on a killing spree?"

I groan, rinsing out a glass. "You always have to go to the extreme."

"Because the extreme always happens to us, doesn't it? Analyze your life, Clint. Aside from this house, is anything about your life normal?"

"My wife and kids…"

"Know you're a spy and that you live out in the middle of nowhere so you can land a jet in the yard to make it home for family dinners. Oh, and sometimes you bring master assassins, super humans and alien gods to those dinners."

"Thor never came to dinner," I mutter. "He left."

"Dammit, Clint!" Nat throws her sponge at me.

"I got it, I know. Our lives our weird, so of course your new boyfriend is weird. But does he have to be a rage monster in his spare time? Can you let him try to sort that out—if he can—before you get involved? There're more normal people you can date, ones who don't take off in jets—"

"Like I never ran away before!" Nat snaps.

"That's different." I glare at the wet spot on my t-shirt where the sponge hit me, then pick it up off the floor.

"Only because it's me," she says. She snatches the sponge from me and tosses it on the counter. "Clint, try. Bruce is your teammate. Before all this, you wanted to help him. You liked him. Go back to that."

I grit my teeth. "It's not that easy, Nat. I don't…"

"You don't what?"

"I don't want you to get hurt like that," I say.

"I'm a big girl, Clint. I can take hurting like woman." Nat puffs out her chest. "Trust me to deal with things like a normal person if things with Bruce go sour."

"I want to," I sigh. "But if you can't, I don't know if I can fix it."

"Clint, I'm not who I was when you first met me. You know that."

I nod. "Still, I worry."
"Because you're a daddy, and daddy instincts spill over into everything I hear," Nat says, passing me a clean plate. "Dry that."

"Yeah."

We fall into a comfortable pattern of washing and drying. And Nat asks me how Lila and Coop are doing in school and the latest developments on Laura's pregnancy. She's excited for the baby too, even if it's a boy. I've got nothing but good stuff to report on all those fronts. I don't ask her anything about what she's been doing, not wanting to know, and she doesn't offer.

"What about the twins?" she asks. "Li, Coop and Laura sure like them."

"They're good. They fit right in as part of the family."

"Wanda makes Bruce nervous. He wasn't so sure about coming when he heard she'd be here."

"Not surprised, but he's got good manners and she's a great kid. They'll work it out." I trust Wanda to be nice and Bruce to warm to it, if he's not too keyed up. He'd seemed kind of fragile at dinner. "Is Bruce..?" Oh dammit. "Is he okay?"

Nat smiles. "He's shaky, but getting it together. I thought here would be a good place to do that. I can always get it together here."

"Yeah, you can," I say. "I changed the sheets on your bed."

"Mm, thanks."

"Bruce still isn't sleeping in there. I made the couch up all nice and comfy for him. Even got out the Power Ranger pillow case."

Nat chuckles. "Can't win 'em all."

I whip the drying towel at her. She jumps back and chucks another sponge at me, hits right in the groin. She's always aimed low.

"I'm glad you're okay." I use the towel to try to dry my pants.

"Yeah?" Nat smirks. "I'm glad you are too, with the twins. It's a lot, but you're doing great."

"Thanks." After a beat. "You are too."

She grins and dunks her hands back into sudsy waters, fishing for dishes. And I get out another towel, ready to dry—the dynamic duo is back.


Dumnezuele—Oh my God.


Author's Note: So, what's the verdict? Like it? Hate it? Don't care either way? Any way you liked it, let me know. Please review.