"Uncle Clint!" The small redheaded boy flew into his legs with the force of a small steam engine and nearly knocked him off his feet. The boy immediately started chattering away excitedly, jumping up and down and grabbing at his hands.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," he laughed. "Slow down there little man! Where's everyone else?" James proceeded to sprint away, informing people at the top of his lungs that he was back. Seconds later he came back, panting breathlessly, and tried to climb up his back. Clint gave him a boost, made sure he was settled, then took of running around the common area and kitchen. His five-year-old nephew hooted and cheered from her perch atop his shoulders.

"You're so heavy now, kid. What, did you grow a foot since I've been gone?" He settled the boy on a stool at the counter then sat down next to him.

"You've only been gone for a week," he giggled. "Don't be silly."

"Oh, of course. How silly of me."

Steve appeared then, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and smiled warmly at the pair. "Morning, you two. Quite the wake up, huh James?"

"Uncle Clint is back, Daddy!"

"Yes, I can see. Was your business trip okay?" Steve gave him a pointed look. Everyone agreed that James was too young to know of their superhero identities just yet. They'd tell him when he was a little bit older, but for now they all thought it best that he be kept in the dark.

"Everything went smoothly. A few minor incidents, but it was all worked out in the end." Steve nodded.

"Sounds good. James, why don't you go get ready for school?" The boy visibly deflated and grabbed his uncle's hand again.

"But Daaaaaaad!" he whined. "Uncle Clint just got back!"

"And he'll still be here after school."

"But we have to play!"

"we can play after school," Clint reassured the boy. "I have an extra special present for you, but you have to go to school first."

"Hear that?" Steve hoisted James out of his seat, groaning dramatically, and tucked him under his arm like a football. The child screamed with laughter, effectively waking up anyone who hadn't already been away before, as his father carried him down the hallway.

"Okay, kid, that's great, just keep you elbow a little bit straighter." He wished he had a camera. Oh sure, Steve would have his head and Natasha would probably skin him alive, but his nephew was actually holding a bow and arrow and he wanted to capture this moment.

"Like this?" James asked.

"No, don't lock your elbow. You'll hurt yourself like that."

"What does locking your elbow mean?" The boy looked up at him with a look of confusion and almost released the arrow. The tip was made of foam so he couldn't do any real damage, but he imagined that if hit from a distance it would still hurt a bit.

"It's when your arm is straightened all the way. It's really bad to do that when you're holding a bow because you can seriously hurt your arm like that."

"Like how?"

"The force of the bow snapping back into shape when you release the arrow can injure you," he explained, "or the bowstring can actually get under your arm guard."

"Ohhh."

"But that's not going to happen," he assured his nephew, "because I'm going to teach you the right way." The two grinned at each other and the Cling knelt next to James. "Alright, so to aim, try to line up your-"

He was cut off as James's fingers released the arrow and sent it flying down the hall. There was a muffled impact and then the sound of many glass things shattering.

"Run."

"BARTON!"

"Where?" James asked in a panic.

"Get to the dining room! We can hide in the vents!"

Oh Clint. What shall we do with you?

Fun fact. That whole bowstring-under-your-armguard thing actually happened to me when I was 13. It was quite painful, and, yes, it did leave a scar.