So. I'm sorry this took so long and YES i am continuing it. Just... had a lot of stuff, I finally made myself sit and write.

Slash warning: a bit heavy on the Clint/Coulson, so if you don't like, then don't read it. More about Natasha and her past and the itsy bisty spider has a little secret she's keeping.

Ok. Awesome.

Current Song: Miserable At Best by Mayday Parade

Current Thought: UGH. I have to go do summer reading. Shoot me.

The Tale of the Hawk and The Spider Part Four

Clint woke up on the couch, a crick in his neck that would be gone before noon. He could smell coffee and eggs and bacon, for which he was eternally grateful, and he got up, stretching as his joints popped and made his way to the kitchen.

"You're up," Clint said as he sat at the kitchen table and Phil plopped a mug of coffee in front of him. "What are you even up, it's like…" and he checked the clock on the oven, "… eight thirty. On a Saturday."

"I'm an early riser Barton, you know that," Phil answered. He set a plate in front of Clint that had the other man closing his eyes and moaning obscenely.

"Why are you doing this to me?" Clint asked as he dug in.

"You mean feeding you because you don't eat like a normal human being? Um, because I don't really want you to die?" Phil hazarded with a small grin.

"No, not feeding me, though I do appreciate that," Clint said around a mouthful of food. It said something about how long they worked with each other that Coulson didn't even bat an eye when he was faced with a mouth full of half-chewed breakfast. "The way you're so… eh."

"Eh?" Phil said, sitting with a cup of coffee. "That's helpful."

"The way you're like…" Clint swirled around his coffee a bit. "Like, you're a housewife, but you kick a lot more ass and you're better with kids and you can put up with my bullshit."

"Right. Eh," Phil said, secretly flattered. He cleared his throat to shove off the familiar warmth that these stupid comments from Clint usually brought to his chest. "So. Speaking of kids… any idea what you want to do with her today?"

They didn't say her name, but she walked into the kitchen a moment later anyway, bright eyed in a pair of pajamas Clint had picked up for her on the way. She silently grabbed a plate and filled it with food, sitting away from them at the table and not looking at either of them.

Clint raised an eyebrow and Phil shook his head; let her have her time. They were in no rush.

After a few minutes, Clint opened his mouth to speak , but Natasha beat him to it. "I apologize. For my… behavior last night. That was uncalled for. You are just trying to help me." She wasn't looking at them still, and it hit Phil that she was a child, a child that was having a hard time apologizing because that was how children were.

"It's fine," Phil said softly.

"Don't sweat it," Clint threw in, and she finally looked up and gave him an odd look. "Figure of speech?" he tried. Then he turned to Phil. "That didn't translate well in Russian, did it?" he asked in English.

Phil shook his head. "It sounded like you said 'a sweating pig'."

Clint nodded. "Right." He turned back to Natasha and said in Russian, "Ignore me."

She tried for a smile that looked like a grimace. "I'm beginning to see that," she said dryly.

And then Phil stopped drinking his coffee and turned his head to laugh. Who knew the kid was capable of dry humor? And the glare that Clint was directing his way was just too adorable, not that he'd ever tell.

"Don't glare that way Barton," he said in Russian for Natasha's benefit. "Your face might freeze that way."

Natasha stifled what might have been a giggle had she let it free and Clint just raised a lazy eyebrow at him and continued eating. So maybe Phil had over-stepped his boundaries and the flirting wasn't appreciated. Shit. He cleared his throat awkwardly, ignoring the concerned look Clint was throwing him and turned to Natasha.

"I would like to go out with you today," he said to her.

She looked at him warily. "For what?"

Phil shrugged. "I'd like to show you around New York a bit and maybe go shopping. I see that what you have by way of clothing is a bit limited and out of date, though I'm sure Clint did all he could for you while you were on the run. Would you like that?"

She froze and looked to Clint for confirmation, but he looked just as stunned as she did. So Natasha took the initiative and nodded slowly, as if the opportunity might be retracted if she answered the wrong way. "Yes," she said softly. "Very much."

"Good," Phil said letting out a breath he hadn't even known he was holding and nodding to Clint who had an expression on his face Phil couldn't place. "We can leave after breakfast," he said in fluent Russian. "You can choose anywhere you like once we finally get a look around."

Natasha was a child above all else, so she casually rushed through her breakfast then ran into her new room for day clothes as Phil and Clint cleaned up. As Phil was putting the dishes in the sink, Clint bumped shoulders with him.

"Thanks," he said with a smile. "I don't know what I'm doing half the time, so thank you."

Phil shrugged, turning from the sink. "She looks up to you, you know, looks to you for guidance. Be there for her and you'll be fine."

Clint took a step closer, and suddenly Phil was pressed up by the sink, barely an inch between them. Clint was looking into his eyes like he'd just found something he missed the first million times he looked into them. "Yeah," he said softly, one hand reaching out tentatively. "Yeah, but you-"

There was a throat clearing and the Clint was a million miles away, snapping out of whatever it was that had taken a hold of him. Natasha was in dark jeans and a hooded sweatshirt, a red eyebrow raised as if to say, 'I'm sorry, but was I interrupting something?' Clint smoothed his shirt down and Phil just raised an identical eyebrow at him, trying to hide the fact that his heart was beating a tattoo against his ribs and succeeding.

"Right so, I think that's our cue to go, I'm all set, Phil are you all set?" Clint rambled, his ears turning red.

"Yes, I'm just grabbing my coat and my wallet, then I'll be good." He eyed Clint for another moment, shook his head and then walked out the door and made his way to his room.

Left to their own devices, Natasha crossed her little arms and stared disapprovingly at Clint. "And you said that you two were not like that."

"We aren't," Clint answered in Czechoslovakian.

She sighed a little bit. "Liar," she answered back in the same language. "You like him."

"It's never been a problem before," Clint said before he could stop himself. "It's not going to be now. And shut up, you're like six-"

"Eight," she responded dryly.

"Whatever. Stay out of my nonexistent love-life." But he said it good-naturedly.

Then she paused. "Does Phil know Czech?"

"…no…"

Natasha blinked up at him and pouted. "You are hopeless."

"Shut up."

Natasha ended up loving the city. She adored the park, but was too intimidated by the large, open space and stuck close to Clint, a hand unconsciously fisting itself in the sleeve of his coat as she looked around, eyes wide at everything around her. She was fond of the theatre too, finding the large space gorgeous and easier to be in because it had walls. But nothing was playing and all that nights tickets were sold, so Phil promised her that he'd look a few things up on the theatre's website and see what would be showing in the next few days and try and score the three of them tickets.

Natasha had a smile on her face for the rest of the afternoon, even after she ate her first hotdog and made faces the entire time she was chewing.

They finally made their way to the shopping district and her eyes widened at all of the stores. She pointed out a few that looked interesting but then refused to walk off the sidewalk and across the plaza to go to the shopping strip. There was a worried look on her face, her forehead broken out in beads of sweat. Clint saw Phil look at her worriedly, but he just waved the concern away. Phil said he'd be fine if he was there for her when he needed it. Clint planned on doing exactly that.

He crouched down to eye level with her and grasped her little arms. "Tasha?" he asked quietly, using the nick-name for the first time and watching as she raised her eyes in answer. "What's wrong?"

Her little jaw clenched and so did his heart because she looked so fucking afraid. "The… the crowds." She swallowed and looked away, embarrassed but not showing it even though the tips of her ears got red. "The crowds are… stifling. They bother me."

Phil's eyes lit up in understanding as he looked across the plaza. It was jam-packed with people that they would have to walk through to get to the shopping strip, and he totally understood why a sever claustrophobe wouldn't want to go anywhere near it. The most prominent thought in his mind though, was this: what had they done to her to make her so afraid of cramped spaces?

Clint was thinking the same thing and the look on his face hurt Phil to even look at. "Ok, sweetheart, that's fine. Would you like one of us to carry you?" Clint asked quietly. Phil nodded his assent.

"Yes," she said, whispery soft, not wanting to be deprived of the shopping trip while not wanting to be the burden she had always been told she was.

Clint nodded. "Me or Phil?"

"You," she said without any hesitation, and he picked her up with less than that. But then she snuck out a hand, the other one clutching to Clint's shoulder, and she wiggled her fingers at Phil. He felt something twist in his chest and he nodded and gave her his index finger to hold onto, because she was too small to take his whole hand.

They walked across the way like that, people moving out of the way and commenting on the brightness of Natasha's hair as they did so. Most comments were ignored until they got to the first store and Clint asked her if she wanted to go down. She let go of Phil's finger and shook her head 'no'. That was fine. Phil ushered Clint in, a hand to the small of his back, holding the door as they went in first.

"Tell us if you see anything?" Phil said and she nodded. There wasn't much that interested her, but they walked around for a bit to calm her down, letting her know it was ok to be vulnerable like this around them. It forged some kind of invisible bond that was just strengthening as the day went on.

A store's clerk pulled Phil aside as Clint and Natasha were looking at some scarves they'd found, her mood lifting a bit, evident in the way that she was responding. "Is the little miss alright?" the woman asked him.

Phil nodded, trying to assuage the woman's worry. "She's fine. Doesn't like cramped spaces. The crowds in the plaza spooked her a bit." He could hear the worry in his own voice. "She'll be fine. He knows how to calm her down," Phil said, without really thinking about the words.

"Abusive family before you two?" the woman asked in a hushed voice, snapping Phil out of it and making him look at her oddly.

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, I'm sorry if I insulted you if she's been with you two all her life. That was rude and presumptuous of me." She looked flustered.

And shit, now that Phil thought about it, hell, this woman thought they were a couple that adopted Natasha. He wanted to laugh it off and say no, that they were just watching her for a bit, but that would sound odd and was not good for any semblance of cover that Fury wanted them to keep while he had his way with The Council.

At least they had a cover story now.

"Yes. Abusive family before us. We got to her just in time though," he said, the lie smoothly falling from his lips. "And I think that those two are done, so we'll be off. Thank you for the service." And he quickly ushered Clint and Natasha out.

Clint made a face. "Oh? What did Grammy- Sunshine want?"

Phil rolled his eyes. "Don't ask. You don't want to know."

"Oh, you are so telling me later," Clint said with a wicked smile that did things to Phil's heart and then he set Natasha down and let her take his hand and drag her to the store that had really caught her eye in the beginning.

They walked inside, still slightly behind her and she ran ahead of them. There was a systematic way that she looked at the store. She checked for all the exits just as Phil and Clint were, then tackled it with the kind of strategic approach a sniper would take. She got the edges first, then made her way to the middle. Clint hung back, grudgingly impressed and a little sad too. She was a kid. She should have just been running about with wild abandon.

"Well, she seems to like this place. She'll be distracted for a bit. Shall we look for something for her?" Phil suggested. Having three people at worked seemed better than just one prepubescent one, so Clint nodded and they got to work.

They were still in there an hour later, a shopping cart of carefully picked out clothes beside them as they jointly picked out clothes.

"She's into the whole black and red thing," Clint said, judging by the way all the clothes Natasha had brought to them were one of the two colors or a mix of both. "And she's not very into skirts," Clint said, shaking his head at the little black one that Phil was holding, with the red sparkles.

But Phil was shaking his head. "It's not a skirt Clint, it's a tutu."

Clint burst out laughing. "Why the hell do you have a tutu, Phil? Oh my god, how did you say that with a straight face?"

Phil bit the inside of his cheek so he wouldn't laugh as well and ignored the salesclerk that had noticed them and was coming toward them. She was still a long way off. So. "You told me yourself that she was drawing pictures of ballerinas the entire trip."

Clint shrugged, sobering up. "Doesn't mean she wants a tutu." He went back to looking at clothes.

"I know. I was thinking more along the lines of dancing lessons."

Clint froze then turned to Phil with a shocked face. "Are you serious?" he asked incredulously. At Phil's raised eyebrow, he blanched. "You're fucking serious."

"Language, this is a children's store."

"You want to enroll her in a dancing school? She can't speak English Phil! And," now Clint lowered his voice. "And no offense, but that costs money I don't have. With my SHIELD salary, sure. Easy. But I'm locked out right now and it's a stretch for the clothes alone-"

"I never said you were paying for it. And I'm not locked out. And I'm paying for this stuff, it's why I brought my wallet," Phil said, a bit irritated now. Why couldn't Clint just let this go.

"Phil," he said aghast. "I couldn't let you-"

"She's not just your responsibility anymore, Clint," Phil said quietly, placing a thoughtless hand on Clint's forearm. "She's mine too. I said I'd help and this is me helping. She's a smart kid. We can get her through the English language in a few weeks, maybe less. It's fairly easy to learn when she knows all these other languages. And I have a feeling she knows more than she's letting on. And she needs something like this, needs to something to ground her. SHIELD's not letting you back in for a while, don't be a fool. This'll be good for her."

Clint stared at him and then there was a soft, Russian, "Hawk?" and he was swallowing hard and looking over to Natasha who had picked up the nick-name on their trip to America.

"Hey there. What've you got?" Clint said, opening up his hands and making a 'gimme' motion with them. She handed him a pair of red sneakers and he nodded his approval before she ran off. Then he turned back to Phil. "Are you sure?" he asked quietly.

Phil nodded in relief. "I told you. Not just your responsibility now."

"Oh god, thank you," Clint said, as if he was finally allowing it to be true no matter how many times Phil had said he wasn't alone in this. "She's… she's gonna love that actually," he said pointing to the tutu. "It's cute."

Phil lifted the skirt and then his eyebrow. "I think that's the point, Barton." And Clint laughed.

And then the salesclerk reached them.

"Good afternoon and welcome! Is there anything I can assist you with?" she asked brightly.

But Phil was looking around and not really paying attention to her, which meant that Clint was watching Phil and saying, "What are you even doing, Phil?"

He looked at Clint, unimpressed. "Looking for Natasha. Have you noticed she's gone missing? You're horrible at this, Clint."

"That's why I've got you. And just look for bright red streaking around. She's the only red-headed kid in the store. I think she was by the shoes last time I checked?"

"Um… excuse me?" the woman asked.

Phil spotted Natasha near the men's shirts, rolled his eyes, then turned to the woman as if noticing her for the first time. "Oh. Hello."

"I think we're fine," Clint said. Then he paused and turned to Phil. "We are fine, right?"

"Yes Clint. We're fine." Phil turned to the woman. "Thank you."

"No problem!" she exclaimed, then looked at their carriage. "You two shopping for your daughter?" she said, pointing to Natasha, with her bright red hair, coming toward them with something purple in her arms.

Phil blanked out for a minute, because really? Twice in one day? But then Clint had an arm snaked around his waist and his face was pressed almost to Phil's neck and he heard him say, "Yup. Doing a bit of a wardrobe change. She's growing up a bit. And I have no idea what I'm doing most of the time, thank god he's around." There was a fake smile on his face, that was a little bit real underneath, and a gleam in Clint's eye that was all wrong because he was about to have too much fun with this and Phil was probably going to let him. "Right babe?"

There it was. "Unfortunately, dear," Phil returned with an eyebrow raise and Clint just stuck his tongue out. "Don't tease me," Phil said with a wicked smile.

Clint's reaction was not what he expected. Instead of a laugh or easy flirt, Clint's eyes went wide and landed on Phil's mouth and he swallowed. "Not in public, Phillip," he said, his voice a note lower.

What? He'd called Phil by his full name, reacted strangely and the salesclerk was looking at them intently, like she was about to scream, 'NOW KISS!' and smash their faces together, and maybe they should, come to think of it, make it believable and maybe Phil just wanted to, damn-it.

But then there was another throat clearing like earlier in the morning and the salesclerk was telling them to call her if they needed absolutely anything and everything and Natasha was saying, "If you kiss, do it at home. I don't want to see it," but there was a sly look on her face.

Clint recovered first. He casually slid his arm out from around Phil and stepped away, a smirk on his face, fake and forced. "That, you little spider, was what we call the best acting in the world. We're international spies, Phil and I. We have to do that sort of thing a lot. Just part of the job, right?"

And he looked at Phil and Phil bit his tongue and put his mask back on. "Exactly. Now what do you have there?"

It was a men's shirt, and too big for her at that. But she was holding it out to Clint who picked it up and was a bit surprised to see it was in his size. "You need new clothes too," she insisted and she was actually right. "And you like purple."

Clint held the shirt up to his front and turned to Phil. "Well? Is it me?" He made a face, but there was some kind of earnestness in it.

It was him, that was the problem and Natasha was a little demon, Phil was sure. She'd caught on to his crush last night, hadn't she? And now she was trying to prove some obscure point, just like a child would. He'd have to get her mind off of that.

"It's is you," Phil said. "Throw it in and go look for some other stuff while we're here," he said to Clint, then dismissed him before he could say more. He looked to Natasha then and held up the tutu. "Do you like it?"

Her little hands, callused from holding a gun and knives, reached out and held it to her chest. There was a longing look in her eyes as she glanced back up at Phil. "Like a ballerina," she said quietly.

Phil nodded and out of the corner of his eyes saw Clint halt his movements to get away and stand to watch. He ignored the other man and got down to her eye level. "Clint and I were discussing the possibility of you going to a dancing school. We could enroll you in a ballet program," he said quietly. "For as long as you want, if you want to."

Her eyes were wide, her little mouth dropping open in the first sign of shock she'd shown since Clint picked her up. Clint soaked in the image, Phil soft and soothing, an anchor in her storm, Natasha lost and grateful all at the same time.

"…can I?" she asked, suddenly meek and quiet, as if she thought she was being baited and it would all be taken away.

"Of course," Phil said reassuringly. "Whenever you want. We'll have to teach you English but-" She hugged him then, cutting him off mid-sentence and clinging to him. Phil felt his heart in his throat as he wrapped his arms around her little body and buried his face in her hair. Clint couldn't help but rest his hand on the back of Phil's neck in a parody of the night before.

"You did good, sir," he said in soft English.

"Thanks," Phil answered.

"No," they heard in even softer English coming from where Natasha had her face mashed into Phil's neck. "Thank you."

Clint froze. Phil froze. The hell? "Wait a second, I thought you said she couldn't-"

"I said she didn't seem to…" Phil said in just as much shock.

Clint turned to Natasha, just sitting in Phil's arms. "I thought you couldn't speak English, sweetheart," Clint said, wanting an explanation.

She gave them both a blank look. "Who said that?" Because of course she knew it. They how could they be that stupid and not figure out that if she knew all those language and everything in between, how couldn't she know one of the most common languages in the world?

Phil sighed. "Why didn't you tell us?"

"You never asked," she said. Then she looked away. "And I thought… that you were just going to leave me anyway and I…"

She trusted them now, Clint realized at the same time that Phil did. "Anything else we should know?" Clint asked in English.

"My birthday is in a few months," Natasha said quietly in the same language.

Phil held her close to his chest and let her settle. "Good to know."

Yeah, so an anon suggested in a review that they put her through dancing school and kick-ass things happen, so anon, wherever you are, if you're still reading, you just got your wish because i liked the idea. So there.

Um... reviews? They're welcome and such!