Flashback! ...I know! I've been so chronological for 7 chapters. I hope I haven't spoiled you. ;)
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Wind right around Age 1
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fluff fluff fluff!
Wind's first word was not 'mommy' or 'daddy'. Unlike most parents, neither of his had ever really encouraged him to say those words. Clint and especially Natasha were still not quite comfortable with their titles. On their own tongues, those words still felt a bit frightening, a bit too foreign, undeserved even. They did use the names 'mom' and 'dad', but not so much to make it normal for their son to make one his first word.
His first word was 'arrow', a word found all around in his daily life. The taller dog, the one who never let Wind catch him, was called Arrow. It was the word for the sticks that his father was always causing to fly through the air. When his father strapped him to his back and took him, climbing into trees, arrows were what he tugged out of bark and collected in a quiver. The pretty little golden thing that his mother wore around her neck was also an arrow. She would always let him touch the cool, soft metal, but he was always blocked from pulling it away.
So, one muddy afternoon in late April, Wind stood confidently on the edge of the porch and bellowed "Ahd-oh!"
Clint had been sitting in a chair with his feet propped up on the porch rail. He was waiting on Natasha so they could begin their morning spar, and immediately looked up. He set aside the arrow he'd been replacing the head on, and went to sit on the top step so that he was eye level with his son.
"What'd you say, little man?"
Wind pointed to the lanky wolfhound who was sniffing carefully at some deer tracks that crossed the yard. "Ahd-oh!" He repeated cheerfully.
"Arrow?" Clint clarified. Wind nodded enthusiastically and elaborated further in baby-speak.
"Nat, check it out!" Clint called over his shoulder.
A moment later Natasha stepped out onto the porch as she was putting up her hair. "Check out what?"
"Wind, who is that?" He asked his son while pointing to the dog.
Wind looked at his dad, then at Natasha. He knew he'd just done something good. "Ahd-oh!" He said with extra emphasis.
"Arrow?" Natasha asked with a smile she couldn't suppress.
Clint held out a hand to Wind. "Good job, bud! First word!" Wind slapped Clint's hand as best he could and laughed. He was happy. His parents were happy. Life was good.
"Go get Arrow." Clint coaxed excitedly. Wind navigated his way down the steps and then he was off running across the wet grass.
. . .
The proud parents sat together on the porch steps after finishing their spar. Wind was now chasing Mars around and laughing gleefully. His pants were dampened up to his knees. Mars leapt back and forth, fully engaged in the game with the child. Arrow lay at a safe distance, watching for any indication that the boy might be headed his way. Some of the chickens had made their way in the direction of the commotion. They too stayed out of range of the child as they bobbed and pecked in the grass.
Nat was looking at her son, but Clint was looking at her. There was mud on her cheek, and some in her hair. Clint's hands were spotted with dried mud as well. He glanced down at their bare feet resting on the wooden slats. They were covered in wet grass and specks of dirt. Clint kind of liked that and wiggled his toes once.
"He said the dog's name before ours." Nat deadpanned.
Clint chuckled and his eyes took a new focus on a little blade of grass that he twisted in his fingertips. "Well we're not so much the mom and dad type are we?"
"A little late for qualifications, don't you think?"
"Guess so." Clint shrugged and tossed aside the blade of grass. "I wanna be." He added after too long of a pause.
Natasha cocked her head to look at him. "Want to be what?"
"The dad type." He said, looking at his hands.
"You are. There's a kid right there."
He didn't quite laugh at her jest. She gently knocked her knee against his. "Tell me."
Clint laughed lightly, but there was sadness in it. "I don't know." He sighed.
Natasha turned away. "Wind, come here."
The little guy looked up, breathing hard. He laughed as Mars pushed his nose into his chest.
"Come here." She said, beckoning him kindly. "Dad needs a kiss." Clint looked at her, noting her choice of words. "Then you can keep playing with the dog."
Wind seemed to believe her and came unsteadily over to his mother. 'Kiss' wasn't a word incompatible with playing. It wasn't like 'sleep', 'dinner', 'night', or 'car seat'. Those words were red flags. He could do 'kiss'.
She picked him up and placed him on Clint's knees. He threw his arms around his dad's neck. Clint just laughed. Inevitably, Wind did too.
"Come on." Clint said, getting to his feet and lifting Wind too. "Let's walk." He stepped down off the porch and set the boy on his feet. Taking his little hand in his, he turned to Nat. "We'll just go for a little."
She nodded comfortably, with a look that told him to do what he would. His eyes told her what he wanted to say, then he and Wind turned and headed toward the tree line. Clint gave a whistle for both dogs to follow. Mars trotted ahead, nose to the ground and tail flicking back and forth through the air. Arrow walked along on Clint's opposite side, away from Wind.
Natasha continued to sit, just watching them go hand in hand. She smiled at Wind's many small steps as they attempted to match each of Clint's barefooted strides.