"This is actually a good idea…. Consider me impressed."

Clint pressed a hand against his chest in mock shock, keeping an eye on Ian as he crawled a little closer to the open fireplace. "Are you saying I don't usually have good ideas, oh love of my life?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying…" Phil smirked, before using one arm to pull Clint closer, "… but this is nice. Where did you even find this place?"

"It was one of my safehouses when I was… free-range. Nobody but me and Barney know about this place."

Phil frowned, "Is that… meant to reassure me?"

There was a brief moment of silence, Before Clint quickly cleared his throat and gestured at the giant, decorated tree in the corner of the room. "Nice right? I even added some Captain America baubles, just for you."

If Phil had been concerned before, the ridiculous baubles seemed to have taken his mind off it. "The presents will look good under there… almost picture perfect right?"

"…. You're going to make us go through some family photos, aren't you."

"Resistance is futile."

"With the matching jumpers?"

"Especially with the matching jumpers. My parents will love it." Phil smirked at the ensuing groan, before glancing up at the top of the tree, "Clint… is that a gun on the top of the tree?"

"With a little Christmas hat attached!"

…

"Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way!"

Phil glanced up from his book, smirking at the sight of Clint in the reindeer antler headband, hands guiding Ian through a bouncy dance, the one-year-old giggling in delight, which only made Clint laugh harder as well.

Ian was wearing green and red striped pyjamas, with a little elf hat resting on top of his messy brown hair… Natasha must have taken about a dozen photos before they left.

With Clint switching to another song, Phil turned his attention back to the book, only managing to get through a few more pages before the singing stopped and Clint's eager voice piped up.

"Phil… Phil, look at this."

At Clint's hiss, Phil glanced up from his book, "Clint, I've already…" He then stopped and twisted around fully in amazement.

Ian was standing up all on his own…. He was a bit wobbly, but he was definitely standing on his own.

"I think he's going to walk!" Clint exclaimed in excitement, shuffling back slightly and holding out his arms for Ian, "Come on… you can do it!"

Slowly, Phil slid off the sofa and moved to kneel next to Clint, his own arms outstretched. "That's it Ian, you're doing so well!"

Ian frowned at them, as if to say 'don't patronise me', before wobbling forwards slightly, one tiny foot moving in front of the other, hands out for balance. It took a little over two minutes, but eventually, he reached Clint, falling forwards into his arms.

"Yes, yes, yes!" Clint shot to his feet, throwing Ian up into the air and catching him again, "You did! Soon we'll have you on the shooting range, give you a little purple uniform and- "

"- and maybe we should focus on him going to school first?" Phil shook his head in amusement, kissing both Ian and Clint on their foreheads, before pushing himself to his feet and walking to the kitchen, going to prepare their dinner.

Glancing into the living, he smiled warmly at the sight of Clint sitting on the rug near the fire, Ian between his legs and leaning back against his stomach. Ian leaned his head back to look up at his Papa, giggling as Clint pulled a funny face back at him. He then bent forwards to kiss the messy locks of hair that were breaking free of the elf hat, then resting his cheek on Ian's head, winking at a watching Phil as Ian babbled eagerly.

Phil honestly felt like his heart was going to burst.

Clearing his throat, he turned his attention back to dinner, setting up the mixer that would mash up Ian's little Christmas dinner.

…

A little under two hours later, Ian was shoving his hand into his special United Air Force bowl (Nick gave out the weirdest presents), scooping up the last of his mashed-up dinner and shoving it into his mouth with a happy little "yum!"

"Do you think he even realised there were vegetables in that?" Clint questioned, cackling as Ian then lifted the bowl up, clearly intending to lick it.

"No…" Gently, Phil took the bowl off of him, "…. But then again, he's not as fussy as you."

Before Clint could protest in his usual dramatic fashion, Phil pushed himself to his feet and clapped his hands together. "Right… how about presents?"

…..

Why couldn't children open their presents all at once?

Clint watched as Ian occupied himself with a tiny piece of wrapping paper and tape, not actually opening the present. Phil had been playing Santa, handing out the present, before making the first tear for Ian to pull at…. Which he wasn't.

"Can't I open them for him?" Clint whined, "All these presents, and he's not paying any attention to them!"

"He'll get around to it, have a little bit of patience." Phil was too busy taking pictures too care about whether or not his son was actually opening the presents.

This changed half an hour later.

With a little bit of help, Ian had un-wrapped an activity table, complete with lights and sounds and other things to annoy Nick (because that's where the table would end up); a little garage with several cars and ramps; a mat that made sounds when you stepped on it; a wooden shape-sorter box; a musical book of nursery rhymes; several bath toys, including an activity whale that would stick to the side of the bath; soft teddies and stackable bricks.

Very soon, the room was a mess. Bright wads of paper were strewn across the floor as well as boxes and toys. Personally, Phil believed it wouldn't have been such a mess if Clint hadn't started a paper fight, sticking bows to his own hair and asking Phil to unwrap him.

Phil still maintains that Clint deserved the withering look.

A soft Christmas song played over the radio as the small family lay on the sofa. Clint was lying on his back, Phil snuggled up to his side and Ian on his belly. One hand was gently stroking Phil's head, and the other was supported Ian's back as the baby played with his shape box, clapping when he got one right.

Soon, the sun began to set, and Ian rubbed at his tired eyes.

"Alright, time for bed I think." Phil moved off of Clint and lifted Ian into his arms, bending down to pick up one of his new teddies, "Clint, why don't you take him, and I'll neaten everything up before Nick and Natasha arrive tomorrow. I'll be there in a few minutes to help tuck him in."

Clint nodded, pushing himself to his feet to take his son, smiling as Ian immediately snuggled up to his chest and closed his eyes. He turned the smile to Phil before heading to the small room that had been set up for Ian.

True to his word, Phil was there a few minutes later, carrying Ian's favourite purple teddy bear that had been forgotten downstairs. Clint was rocking Ian back and forth, humming what sounded like a recent pop song slowed down as Phil leaned against the wall to watch in silent contentment.

"Look, Daddy's here…" Clint pointed over at Ian, "… Time to say good night little one." Pressing a gentle kiss to the top of Ian's head, he placed him in the cot, as Phil moved to the other side, placing the purple teddy inside and kissing Ian on the cheek.

"Goodnight Ian."

As they slowly left the room, switching off the light and closing the door, the pair turned to one another.

"Is it weird that I can't imagine life without him? Like, I know we never talked about children but- "

"- but he's our son." Phil gently interrupted, "And no… I don't think I can imagine life without him either."

….

Phil heard the noise at around 2am, and was instantly awake.

Clint of course, was completely oblivious, even as Phil reached under his pillow and pulled out a small taser, slowly getting out of bed and making his way out to the corridor, avoiding all the squeaky floor-boards that he'd marked out earlier.

The noise was coming from his son's room.

Phil picked up the pace slightly, pushing the bedroom door open and glaring at the sight of the shadowed figure standing over his son crib. It wasn't Natasha, clearly… and it wasn't Nick.

"Step away from the crib." He growled, frowning when the figure didn't even flinch, "Now."

Nothing.

He wasn't given another chance.

The trigger was pulled, and two lines shot out, attaching to the man's back and sending a high electrical current through them. Within seconds the man was on the floor, twitching and drooling as the shocking continued.

"PHIL! PHIL!"

Clint came crashing into the room, startling Ian awake. As the one-year-old screamed his displeasure, Clint finished putting his pants on, frowning at the sight of the twitching man on the floor.

"Oh…. Hey Barney."

…..

"I just wanted to see him."

Barney couldn't seem to take his eyes off of Ian, who was finally back asleep after his screaming fit.

"I-I wanted to make sure that he was alright."

"Oh right…" Phil rolled his eyes, "… because we're the bad parents in this scenario."

An awkward silence fell over them all, before Clint nervously cleared his throat. "You signed over your parental rights Barney…" he gently reminded his brother, "… if you wanted to see him, maybe next time you should call and ask?

"What, and have your boyfriend- "The word was sneered, "- hang up on me as soon as he realises that it's me?"

Phil didn't deny it.

"He's my son Clint!" Barney then started to beg, "I shouldn't have to ask to see him!"

"Yes, you do! Especially when you SIGNED OVER YOUR PARENTAL RIGHTS AND DUMPED HIM ON MY DOORSTEP!"

Once again, Ian woke up screaming, lashing out at however was holding him, only settling down when he heard the familiar humming of his Dad and the gentle rocking motion accompanying it.

"You can't just pick and chose when you actually want to be a Dad."

"Better than keeping him with me when I'm feeling… low and kicking the crap out of him. Like our old man."

Clint's entire face fell at this, paling as he completely tensed up. Automatically, almost unconsciously, his hand brushed over his chest where a fairly large scar sat…. glass bottle when he was four.

His parents had died not long after that.

"You're not taking him…" he eventually whispered, his words coming out as a hiss, "… I don't mind you visiting but- "

"- but he's my son!"

"No… he's not anymore." Clint glared at him, "You signed him over, and now he's our son. Legal paperwork signed and everything."

For a moment, it looked like Barney was going to argue, only for him to sigh wearily and shake his head.

"Can… can I at least stay? Just for a few hours?"

Clint and Phil glanced at one another, almost seeming to communicate silently with each other, before Clint sighed and nodded.

"Alright…" He held up a hand to stop Barney before he could say anything, "… but you have to be gone before the morning. If Natasha finds out you're here, she'll- "

"- she doesn't scare me."

Even Ian seemed to be in disbelief about this, twisting around to stare at the strange man in confusion.

"You and I both know that isn't true." Clint smirked, "I can always call her and test this?"

"Please don't."

That answer said it all.

…

"What's he doing here?"

Clint turned to his brother, who was practically pressed up against the back wall at the sight of Natasha and Nick Fury entering the cabin. "He was… curious about Ian. Wanted to come and visit."

"And take him away I bet." Nick muttered giving the older Barton brother a dirty look, "You had your fill yet Barton?"

Barney glanced over at his son, who was happily playing with some of his new toys. "I- "he noticed the look on Nick's face, and sighed wearily, "- Yeah. I'm done."

"Good… let me show you the door."

Choosing not to say anything as his brother was 'encouraged' to leave, Clint turned his attention to Natasha, who was on the ground and handing Ian her present, helping him unwrap it to reveal a little soft tool set, complete with soft saws, drills, hammers and other things, including the box.

Almost immediately, Ian had grabbed the hammer and was hitting the ground in glee.

Nick then made his way back inside, "I don't know why you agreed to keep him around Chesse…" he said to Phil, "… but that man is bad news and he's been bad news since day one, no offense Barton."

How could Clint disagree… his brother had come in with the intention to steal Ian and only stopped because of Phil's little… shock.

"Nick… It's Christmas." Phil sighed wearily, "Can we just put it behind us? Just for today?"

When Fury opened his mouth to protest, Phil shot him a warning glare, shutting him up immediately

"Just for today." He grumbled.

"Good… now, don't you have something for Ian?"