Clint and Natasha were sparring when JARVIS informed them of an incoming call from Pip's school. They stopped mid-move and Clint swung Natasha onto his back from the arm he had a grip on. Kneeling he picked up his phone from the side of the mat and held it to his ear.
"This is Mr Barton." He answered a little breathlessly. Natasha had her head pressed close to his so she could hear every word.
"Hello, I'm calling from Kelman Middle School. Your daughter, Philippa, got into a fight with a boy in the playground today and is being held behind for detention. Her guidance teacher would like to speak with you."
"дерьмо" Natasha swore.
"Is the boy alright?" Clint asked tentatively. Philippa could easily have killed if her temper got the better of her. But surely the receptionist would have opened with the news had that been the case?
"She broke the poor boy's wrist! He was rushed to hospital." The woman's voice rose an octave.
"Thank God." Clint and Natasha were already heading for the door.
"Thank God?!" Clearly, it wasn't the reaction she expected.
"It could have been a lot worse." Clint didn't want to give away that his eleven-year-old was trained to kill but only succeeded in digging himself a deeper hole. Before the receptionist could get even more hysterical he quickly asked her. "Can we meet with her guidance teacher in half an hour?"
"Um, yes. She's free all afternoon. I'll tell her you are coming." The question surprised the woman and took the wind from her sails. She hung up dejectedly.
"Mr and Mrs Barton." A brightly dressed young woman greeted them. "I'm Miss Steele. Please have a seat." She shuffled papers to seem busy before beginning. "Philippa's a smart girl. I didn't think she'd be the kind to get into fights."
Oh, If only you knew, Miss Steele, Natasha thought while keeping her face suitably sombre.
"Has she had anger issues in the past?" The nosey lady wanted to know.
"No." Natasha's voice made it clear they were not there for idle chatter.
"Well I think it would be best if she went took anger management course." Miss Steele decided.
"Can I ask," Clint disliked the woman as much as his wife. "What did the boy say to start the fight?"
"Well, Philippa's side of the story was that he said the Avengers were a waste of taxpayers money and all they did was destroy buildings with no thought of the people living in them. And that in the war in Australia last week they were a shame on America. I know it's a controversial topic but that is no reason for violence."
"Oh." Was all Clint could come up with.
"That explains things." Natasha however, realised a certain amount of the truth had to be told. "Philippa is best friends with Max Stark, Tony Stark's son, and the Avengers are like family to her. I'm sure you'll understand, Miss Steele, how that might have upset her." The school would find out the connection soon enough when Max enrolled and the gossip was more than likely to get Philippa's fight swept under the carpet.
"Of course. She will have to attend detention for a week as we do not allow violence but her outburst is understandable." Miss Steele cleared away her papers and leant forward. "So how did she meet Max?"
"I was Mr Stark's secretary for a while. He and his wife had to leave on a business trip and they asked us to babysit." Natasha explained and Clint was amazed at her ability to bend the truth. Miss Steele's mouth hung open as she frantically memorised the juicy information.
"Is that everything?" Clint asked as they stood to leave.
"Yes, yes. It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr and Mrs Barton." She shut the door firmly in their faces, no doubt so she could start sending emails to anyone who would listen.
The news travelled fast and the next day Philippa felt the teachers looking at her differently. By lunchtime she was surrounded by eager new friends.
"Is it true you're best friends with Max Stark?"
"Have you really met the Avengers?"
"Can you get me Captain America's signature?"
"Have you been in the Avenger's Tower?"
"What's it like?"
"Does the Black Widow have super powers?"
"Does she have a name?"
"Did she teach you to fight like that?"
"Are you rich?"
"Are you going to marry Max?"
The questions went on and on. Philippa answered most of them truthfully, as her parents advised. The main changes were the Black Widow and Hawkeye were now Uncle Jake and Aunt Rachel and she lived in an apartment on 14th Street with her parents who were a translator and a bodyguard. Everyone seemed to love the Avengers now, even Stewart Elder.
"Sorry for what I said." He told her as they stood in line to get their stories approved by the teacher. "I didn't realise you knew them."
"And I'm sorry I broke your arm." She really hadn't intended to do that much damage.
"But you're not sorry you hit me." Stewart guessed.
"No." She agreed. "You deserved that."
He smiled. "I kind of did."
"It's not their fault things get broken." She explained. "They're just trying to stop good people getting hurt. It's mainly the bad guys that do the destroying anyway."
"So have you seen real aliens." He handed his messy crawl to the teacher. It was a good thing Pip broke his left wrist- his left-handed writing would be indecipherable.
"Yeah. Only a few times. Unless Uncle Thor counts- I see him a lot."
"That's so cool." He took his story back and before going back to his seat he offered her a blue felt-tip pen. "Will you sign my cast?"
She did. Get well soon, brave warrior. Pip.