The Hawk and His Daughter/Tonight We Can Pretend

Author: set the night of the last chapter. Lots of cuteness because there just is not enough of Hawkeye being
a daddy. I own Zachery & Illyana. And the backstory that goes with all of this. And unless I can come up with
more: I think I'm done. If there's anything people would like addressed maybe, let me know via review? And to
my anonymus reviewer who commented on my mistranslation in the french conversation between Gambit & Clint:
I use Google Translate so it did the translating for me. My french sucks so I figured it wouldn't be perfectly accurate.

She looked twenty but she was really only six years old. Six years and three weeks old to exactly. And like any child, she craved her parent's attention and comfort. But she was her daddy's baby, had been since the first time he had held her and she had looked up at him with big, inquisitive eyes. Natasha had never minded that Illyana spent more time with Clint. He needed the reassurance that someone cared for him more than she did. And everytime she saw her husband and their daughter together it send waves of warmth surging through her... something that seldom happened otherwise.

Clint felt his daughter's head lift from his chest and he opened his eyes. Like her mother, she had always been most comfortable curled up beside him with her head on his chest or stomach. Which was were she had settled down to watch the movie. Speaking of... He glanced over at the tv and cocked an eyebrow at the credit's rolling over the screen. He had dozed off watching Zachery's copy of Queen of the Damned... what the hell. Movement caught his attention and he turned his head in time to see his daughter get off the couch. "Where you going Illy?" he asked, using his pet name for her.

"To bed. Will you come tuck me in?" she asked, making sure he could read her lips. He never had put his aides back in.

Clint lay on the couch for a moment, letting his sleep fogged brain process her request. It had been years since anyone had asked that of him. But... he couldn't deny that request. "Yeah. Just come give your old man a hand up." he told her.

"You're not that old." she signed after pulling him to his feet.

"I'm fourty three." he reminded her.

"Momma, Phil and Uncle Zachery never told me. I thought you were in your thirties." she admitted, looking up at him as a blush stained her face and neck.

"Hey if you say I look thirty something, I'll take it as a compliment. Go say good night to your momma, aunt and uncles." Clint laughed, giving a nudge towards the dining table where Tasha, Zachery, Tony and Gambit sat playing poker. Storm was sitting beside Gambit, counting the stack of money beside her husband. Clint could just see Steve and Thor out on the balcony. The soldier and god had become somewhat close friends since they were both very out of place in the world. Banner was probably down in Zachery's store, huddled in a corner with his nose in a book. Everyone was okay with that... provided the "other guy" didn't decide to come out and play.

"Going to bed?" Zachery asked, looking up at Clint.

"She is. I'm just gonna go tuck her in. Then I'll probably come back down to play a few hands. If Remy hasn't taken everyone's money by that point." Clint smirked.

Remy looked over his shoulder and said, "Ya should come play mon ami. Beside Tasha, you the only one Gambit can't read."

"Maybe later. Let me get my girl down for the night and I'll see how awake I am after." Clint to him. It had taken his mind a moment longer than usual to process what the cajun had said. His heavy accent and strange way of speaking was confusing at times.

"Did you doze off?" Tasha asked, noting the sleepy look in her husband's eyes and the disleveled state of his hair.

"Nope. Just went for the teeth of the dog that bit me in my dreams the other night." he chuckled. Tony started coughing, having made the mistake of taking a drink of his beer at the same time that he had laughed.

Storm rose to her feet, setting a hand gently on her stomach as she did. Her movement caught Clint's attention and he swung his head towards her. She hadn't changed since they had met fifteen years ago in Morocco. He had... so much so that when she saw him again when they went to Xavier's Mansion to place Illyana in the old man's care, she didn't reconize him. Not until about six months later when she met Coulson and had asked about him. "Rest Clint. No harm will come to your or your daughter." Storm said, gently touching his cheek. He closed his eyes and leaned against her hand a little bit. Fifteen years ago he had lusted after her... all but begged to have her in his bed for just one night. Now... she was more like a sister to him. A drop death gorgeous sister but a sister none the less.

"I swear you have more charm than your husband." he sighed, opening his eyes to look up at her.

"Come on daddy." Illyana signed against his arm before she kissed Storm on the cheek. "Night Aunt Stormy." she said.

"Good night child." Storm whispered, moving her hand to mess up Clint's hair gently.

"Let's go." Clint yawned, sliding an arm around his daughter's waist. He didn't realize how exhausted he was until now.

"I took the room highest up in the house. Best view." Illyana told him, glancing over her shoulder on the stairs so he could read her lips.

"Of course you did." Clint yawned. There was nothing mocking in his tone though. Illyana had inherited his habit of seeking out high places and hiding out in those places for hours to watch the world go by. Thankfully she had not inherited his depression, mood swings and tendancy to be anti-social. Or so Zachery had told him.

After changing into pajamas and settling for the night, Illyana curled up beside her father. Or rather he curled up beside her: on his side, on top of her blankets and an arm draped protectively around her waist. He was exhausted she could tell by the way he so easily relaxed once he had laid down and by the glassy look in his eyes. Gently she brought a hand up and passed it over his eyes, encouraging him to close them. "Go to sleep daddy." she whispered, even though he couldn't hear her. The arm around her waist drew her closer to him and soon enough she was asleep too.

Half an hour later, Tasha opened the door to her daughter's room and smiled at what she saw. Her husband and their daughter, fast asleep. It not a strange sight, not when she remembered that ever since Illyana was born Clint would lay on their bed in the house in Romania or on their little couch with her on his chest. It had been a sight she had missed though. Seeing them so comfortable, so relaxed... it almost fooled her into forgetting about the fact that they both used to be proffesional assassions and more recently: agents of SHIELD. Now they were Avengers. Clint's hunting knife and Baretta on Illyana's beside table glittered omniously in the moonlight leaking into the room, a grim reminder of the lives they lead. There would always be someone with an axe to grind, always some danger to them, to their strange little family. But for tonight: she could pretend that none of them had blood on their hands. That none of them had red in their ledgers. For tonight: she could pretend they were a normal family.

Whatever the hell normal meant anymore.