A/N: Hey guys! This one was a total pain in the ass to get started, so we really hope you enjoy it! (Late, but not on the wrong day)
Prompt: Hot Chocolate
"Alright, listen up, Iron Ass." Clint demanded as he strolled into the SHIELD breaks room, Natasha at his side. Tony and Steve sat at the table, and looked up from their lunches at the couple in front of them.
"What's up, bird brain?" Tony asked calmly, taking another bite of his sandwich. The archer crossed his arms, looking at Natasha before continuing.
"Well, Tasha and I have been talking, and we decided that you have had Peter all to yourselves for far too long."
Tony looked mildly bewildered. "The hell is that supposed to mean?"
Nat looked at Steve. "We want to take Peter for the weekend."
The super soldier grinned, slowly nodding his head in the acceptance of the idea. His husband, on the other hand, was a bit more suspicious with the new plan.
"Why would you want to do that? And where would you even stay?" Tony fired off. Steve turned to Tony in confusion.
"Babe, you're constantly complaining that we don't get any time to ourselves anymore, but the second you have the option, you're trying to avoid it."
Natasha nodded. "Yeah, from what I can tell, you two could really use some alone time. You haven't had any in quite a while, if I'm right. Which I'm sure I am."
Tony gave his husband an incredulous look. "You told her?"
Clint snorted. "You say that like the entirety of SHIELD doesn't know that you haven't screwed in a month. Not the way you need to, at least."
The room went silent, the pair of rookie agents at the coffee machine blushing as they listened to the Avengers' conversation. Natasha rolled her eyes at her blustering teammates.
"So can we take him or not?"
Tony tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Well, I do miss fucking on the couch..."
The poor rookies in the back of the room hustled out, muttering to themselves.
Clint smiled. "I'm taking that as a yes. Also please burn the couch when you're finished defiling it"
Natasha nodded in agreement. "You do have a son that shares that house with you, you know."
Peter walked out of his school amidst the crowd of screaming elementary schoolers. He pulled his backpack farther up on his shoulder, trying not to lose his book as he got jostled from all sides. The small boy began taking the path to the bus out of habit- he'd been at the "big kid school" only since the beginning of the year, but he'd always been good at memorization.
"Peter!" A familiar voice caused the child to pick his nose out of his book. A wide grin spread across his face as he found the source of the noise. He closed his book, running as fast as his little legs could carry him.
"Uncle Clint! Aunt Tasha!" Clint moved off of where he was leaning beside Natasha against her sleek black car to scoop up the child, tossing him in the air and catching him as he giggled with glee.
"Hey, Clint, mind if I get a hug in before you boys go crazy?" Nat asked, no real venom behind her smile. The marksman reluctantly passed over Peter to his partner, who squeezed the little boy tightly before setting him down.
"What are you guys doing here?" Pete asked with a toothy smile.
Clint knelt down in front of the kid as Natasha helped him shrug off his backpack to toss it into the backseat of her car.
"Well, Auntie Tasha and I talked to your dads, and they said that you can come stay with us for the weekend!" He paused. "If you want to, of course."
The little boy rolled his eyes. "Duh, Uncle Clint."
The agents shared a smile at the little boy's attitude, clearly derived from six years straight of Tony Stark. "Yeah, cause we're the coolest, right?" Clint asked.
"Right!" Peter chirped as he jumped into the back seat. Natasha slid into the drivers seat, turning briefly to check her nephew's seat belt as Clint sat down next to her.
"You all ready to go, kiddo?"
"We got all your stuff from Stark Tower already, so do you want to head right to the apartment, or is there something you want to do first?"
Peter thought for a moment as they pulled into the busy New York streets. Clint stayed facing back, his chin propped up on the seat.
"What are you thinking?"
The boy hesitated. "Can we go get hot cocoa?"
"Sure we can." Natasha answered, turning down a new street.
"Well, Pops always says it'll make me not hungry for dinner so I can't…."
Clint laughed and faced forward again. "Well, Pops isn't here right now, so we can do whatever you want to do."
Peter smiled at his aunt and uncle as they pulled into a parking space at a small, local coffee shop. The adults got out, Natasha stopping to help Peter out of the back and holding his hand as they walked in. Clint moved over and grabbed his other hand. The partners made eye contact over the boy's head, a silent conversation where Clint convinced Natasha to loosen up just a little.
"Ready, Pete? One, two…" The little boy took a running start as he caught on to what the archer was suggesting. "THREE."
Natasha and Clint swung their arms upward, launching a giggling Peter into the air right as they reached the entrance doors. They were all laughing as they pushed into the small building. The smell of nutmeg and coffee beans washed over them, the mellow lighting providing a calming atmosphere. A few teenagers sat in one corner, largely ignoring each other and staring at their phones. An elderly couple occupied a table for two near the entrance, and a businessman on his laptop sitting in a plush chair and plugging away at his laptop.
The trio ventured up to the counter, and a middle-aged barista smiled down at Peter as he tried to see over the counter.
"Well if you aren't just the cutest little thing. What can I get for you folks today?" She asked in a too-sweet voice.
"Pete, do you want to tell her what you want?" Natasha asked.
"We want three hot cocoas, please!" The little boy said politely. Nat bit her lip to keep from laughing. Clearly he'd spent quite a bit of his time learning manners with Steve, too.
The barista let out a barking laugh. "And is that all, sweetie?"
Peter nodded. "Uh-huh!"
"Alright, they'll be right out honey. Just take a number and we'll bring them over to you."
"Thank you!" The little boy said as he ran over to an empty table, not waiting for the adults to catch up. Clint slung his arm over Natasha's shoulder as they moved to join Peter.
"I think this is going pretty well so far, don't you?" He asked, smile inches from the woman's face. She scoffed and pushed him off with a smile.
"Let's not get ahead of ourselves, we only just picked him up."
"Yeah, but we are pretty damn cool." He said as they sat at the table.
Peter's head snapped up from where he was tracing the patterns on the table. "Oh, you said a potty word!"
Nat smiled at the boy as she kicked Clint under the table. "You're right, Pete. Remember not to repeat it, though, okay?"
The boy nodded solemnly. "Oh, I know. Pops makes Daddy put money in the swear jar at home."
"Of course he does." Clint snickered. "Ow."
He made a face at Natasha as she kicked him again. She made one back, just as their drinks reached the table. A large blue mug was placed in front of each of them, small puffs of smoke rising from the swirling pools of chocolate.
"Don't forget to blow on it to cool it down, okay Pete?" Natasha instructed. "You too, Clint."
The trio sat quietly for a few minutes, sipping on their drinks until they were acceptable temperatures. As soon as he was able to, Clint took a deep swig of his cocoa, slamming the mug down with a refreshed "ahh."
The marksman smiled across the table at Peter, who started giggling. Confused, he looked over at Natasha, who was hiding a smile behind her hand.
"What?"
Peter broke out into loud laughs, pointing at the chocolate mustache covering Clint's upper lip. "You look like Daddy!"
Natasha allowed herself to join in with the young boy, laughing quietly as Clint ran his tongue over his lip to clean off the chocolate. Seeing a spot that he missed, she leaned forward and cupped his face in her hand, using her thumb to wipe off the chocolate on the edge of his mouth. So maybe she lingered a second longer than was strictly necessary. Peter was too involved in his drink to notice.
Thankfully, he was still occupied with his chocolate to see the mischievous wink that Clint sent her way as she pulled back. The redhead rolled her eyes fondly as she wiped the stray chocolate off of her thumb and onto her napkin. Peter looked back up.
"Uncle Clint, could we get a cookie? I saw them at the counter earlier." The little boy widened his eyes, giving the adults a perfectly crafted puppy dog face. Clint smiled.
"Sure thing! I thought you'd never ask." In an exaggerated whisper, he added, "Don't tell Tasha, but I was looking at them too."
Peter jumped out of his seat, grabbing Clint's hand and dragging him up to the display case. Nat turned in her seat just enough that she could watch them, smiling at the joyful way the boys compared the pros and cons of the different flavors of cookies.
"You have a beautiful family." A voice from behind the redhead said. Upon turning around, Natasha saw the elderly woman who had been sitting by the door when they came in smiling at her.
"Oh, actually, you see, they're-" Natasha stopped when she glanced over and saw that sometime since the last time she looked at them, Clint had placed Peter on his shoulders. The boys were staring at her as the barista took their cookies out of the display case.
When he was sure they had her attention, Clint tapped Peter's leg, and both of them made a silly face at her. Tongues out, cheeks puffed up, and eyes crossed (or as much as Peter could try to get them to cross), they made such a ridiculous sight that even the deadly assassin couldn't help the laugh that crossed her lips as she waved at them.
The faces dropped as Clint handed the cookies up to Peter, who held on to them tightly as the woman behind the counter rang up their purchase. The little boy looked away, trying to hide the fact that he was nibbling at his sweet and probably dropping crumbs into Clint's hair, but he didn't seem to notice. The whole of the man's attention was on Natasha, the small smile that replaced the goofy face showing a whole new level of emotion.
Clint stayed making eye contact with Natasha across the shop until Peter bounced on his shoulders, indicating that he was taking too long to hand over the money so they could go properly enjoy their treats.
The elderly woman sighed.
"Oh, I remember when my husband still looked at me like that." She patted Natasha on the shoulder. "You hold on to that one dear. He's smitten."
By the time Natasha turned back to face the old woman, she was gone. The spy looked up and saw her walking out of the door, arm in arm with the her husband. She turned around once, white curls bouncing as she waved to Nat.
"Hey, who was that?" Clint asked as he sat back down beside her, Peter already having moved back into his seat to munch on his overly large cookie.
"I don't know…"
"Well, what did she want?"
"Just to pass on some advice, I guess."
Clint looked at her skeptically. "What's with all the secrecy all of a sudden?"
Nat smiled at him. "Nothing. I promise." In the hopes of changing the subject, she asked, "So, Pete, what kind of cookie did you get?"
The little boy held up his snack, already half done. "Chocolate chip!"
"I can tell; it's all over your face."
Clint laughed as Natasha scooted closer to the boy, using a napkin to wipe the chocolate mess on his face.
"Careful, Tasha, you look almost motherly doing that. You have to think about your badass image, don't you?"
"Swear jar, Uncle Clint." Peter piped up when he finally pulled away from Natasha enough to take another bite and undo all of the cleaning she had just done.
"You're right. Again." Clint smirked. "Just like your dad."
Peter beamed at the compliment.
Natasha reached over and broke Clint's cookie in half, taking the larger piece for herself.
"Hey!"
"What?"
"I worked hard for that cookie, why do you get the bigger piece?"
"It was my money, that's why."
The trio finished their snacks quietly, content to share each other's presence as they ate the warm chocolate chip cookies. Once in a while they would make idle chatter about school, or how Peter was going to need a bath to get all of the cookie off of his face, and how the hell did he manage to get that much in his hair?
They got up to leave, Clint throwing away their trash and Natasha taking Peter's hand as he turned and waved goodbye to the barista. Just like when they came in, Clint took up his position on Peter's other side. They stopped briefly at the door to check that Peter's winter gear was properly on before venturing out into the cold.
As they walked back to the car, shoes leaving footprints in a thin layer of snow that was still falling, Natasha looked down at the smiling face of her nephew.
"So what do you want to do when we get home?" She asked.
Peter thought for a minute.
"We should get pizza."
Clint laughed and Natasha shook her head with a slight grin.
The marksman nodded as they helped the little boy buckle into the back seat.
"I like the way you think, Pete."
"He's going to get sick if we just let him eat junk food all weekend." Natasha reminded her partner. "Steve would kill us."
Clint waved off her worries as they got into the front seats. "Psh. He'll be fine. Besides, what Captain Healthy Shit doesn't know won't kill him."
"Swear jar!" Peter called from the backseat, his nose back in the book he was reading.
Natasha looked at Clint and laughed. "Better watch your mouth, bird brain, or Tony'll never let us near his kid again."
"God dammit." He muttered under his breath.
Tasha smiled. This was going to be an interesting weekend.