I am such a lousy updater…sorry ^^" Next chapter is nearly done, so it'll be faster next time.

Enjoy :)

STRAYS

*Chapter 6*

The approach had been cautious and rocky but in the end Jeremy was glad he had made his move. There was no doubt Clint was his father and a now he understood why his mom had chosen him: Clint Barton was awesome. He never missed a target, was kinda fun when he let go and he even let Jeremy call him by his first name. Clint was still cautious around him, Jeremy understood; after all not everyone learned they had a grown-up son with a woman they had dated years ago. Contrary to what he had told Clint, Jeremy wasn't sure about the whole story behind Mom and his father's separation. But he got the big lines: mom used to work with the bad guys, she was sent to kill him and fell in love with him instead.

Jeremy just didn't understand why she ran away. Adults' fears, she had told him once, like he was too young to understand –and perhaps he was. Still, he had fun and Clint hadn't pried too much, something he was grateful for –Mom would be very angry if he babbled. That had put him in even better mood. Even aunt Milla noticed his big grin when he arrived home.

"Someone is happy tonight." She said as a greeting. Jeremy liked her best because she reminded him of Mom sometimes.

"I made a new friend!" he replied cheerfully, picking up a glass and filling it with water. Walking from the park to the Residence had turned him thirsty. "We had fun."

"Ain't that awesome" Milla chuckled, ruffling his hair affectionately like Mom would. Jeremy grinned and drank a large gulp. He then hurried to his bedroom and put some music on; he knew Milla would ask questions if he stayed downstairs and he wanted his 'reunion' with his father kept a secret at least until his mom came back.

It had been the oddest day of his life, Barton reflected as he lay back on his bed, eyes stuck to the ceiling of his bedroom. A boy had showed up and claimed to be his son. Then, the kid had tried to convince him that Natalia Romanova was his mother. And then said self-proclaimed son had somehow managed to talk him into going to a shooting range.

When Jeremy had said he knew the owner yet needed to be accompanied by an adult to access the shooting range, Barton hadn't believed him. And yet…

"Good afternoon Mister Harper!"

The manager, who was sitting at the front desk, flashed him a friendly grin.

"Hey kid." He said before glancing at the other man. "Who's your friend?"

"He's Clint, a new uncle!" Jeremy replied enthusiastically. "We're going to shoot a couple of moving targets. The usual please."

"Sure." Harper handed him a couple of targets before turning towards the archer. "What size can I get you?"

Clint stared at him pointedly.

"You really let that kid use guns?"

"Ah, right, new uncle." The man grinned –and showed one or two teeth missing. "He's in for a surprise, ain't he kid?"

Jeremy's response was another wide, mischievous smile; this time so alike of his own that Barton had to repress a shiver. Harper gave him a locker key and nodded towards the back door, where a ton of weapons laid, ready to be used. Clint picked up a random thing and carefully observed the boy. Jeremy eyed longingly the rifles before picking up a small handgun, more adapted to his body.

"Mama said I'm too small for rifles." He grumbled unhappily. The archer stared in bewilderment as Jeremy checked the state of his weapon like an expert. "'Be good on handguns, and keep the serious stuff for later.' She says all the time. I'll take the bullets! I think we got the same caliber."

"So that's your hobby? Shooting?" Clint asked, barely keeping the awe off his voice.

"Yeah" Jeremy shrugged. "Mama's kinda awkward at doing stuff that doesn't involve martial arts or guns. I mean, it's her job right? So she's gotta keep up and spend lots of time in the ranch. I asked her to teach me 'cause I was bored. Then she realized I was good at it so she brought me more. It's our privileged bounding time!" he added cheerfully.

Barton watched the kid as he walked to the ranch, set his targets at a very fair distance, took oversized headphones and firmly set them on his head. He watched him activate a small device and the targets started moving. He watched him load his weapon and take position.

And he watched him shoot and hit the bull's eye each and every time.

He didn't know what had freaked him out the most: the fact that the boy was managing to make him believe he was his kid or that said kid had a goddamn aim for an eight year old. Seven moving targets, thirty bullets. None of them had missed the inner circle. Although they hadn't all gone through the same hole (and that would have been a very, very scary thing) Jeremy's score could easily tie up, or even best a rookie SHIELD agent's.

The man shut his eyelids, allowing himself a minute to consider the situation. A son. With the Black Widow for mother. Damn, he thought, in what mess he had gotten himself into?

Jeremy was…strange. Maybe not strange, he corrected himself, rather peculiar. At first glance, Barton could tell the boy was smart and self-sufficient, more mature than most kids his age but still knew when to get loose. He talked halfway like a child, halfway like an adult, caught on things particularly fast and had a knack for observing people. He spoke of small matters that were not quite helpful into discerning his everyday life –there he recognized Romanova's input –and praised his mother highly, always with a light of reverence in his eyes. The archer couldn't blame him; from the bits he had observed, the redhead had brought up her kid well.

Barton's phone rang. He picked up without glancing at the caller.

"Yeah?"

"I thought you were supposed to stay at med bay till the end of the week?"

Rogers. Barton rolled his eyes, annoyed and amused at the same time. Of course his friend would contact him if he disappeared from the base without telling him.

"They cleared me." He reminded him not unkindly. "I'm home."

"Home as your apartment in…"

"Yeah that one. What's up?"

As much as Barton liked Rogers, he knew that this wasn't just a call of curtsey. The man could have just sent him a text if he was just worried about his location.

"Listen, I'm not supposed to do that but I know how restless you are when you have nothing to do. Are you interested in some obstacle course tomorrow? It'll be slow but I think it'll be better than lazing around and it'll keep your mind busy."

That very morning, Barton would have jumped at the occasion and said yes without a second thought. Now he hesitated. The kid, son or not, intrigued him and he had agreed to meet with him the next day. If he was truly his and the Black Widow's child, Barton definitively wanted to know him more. And to know someone, you had to spend time with him.

"Can't." Barton replied, feeling a smidgen of a smile involuntarily growing on his face. Was he actually looking forwards to tomorrow? "I got a date."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Barton spitted in disbelief. Jeremy crossed his arms and gave him a stern look.

They were sitting at a coffee terrace, the kid drinking a cranberry juice while he ordered an espresso instead of a beer. The thing hadn't arrived yet, and Braton was grateful for it because he would have downright spit out the drink at Jeremy's words.

"No swearing, only during 'oh shit' situations" the kid chided.

"You want me to take you ice-skating?"

Jeremy nodded firmly, the determined glint in his eyes reminding him too much of Romanoff when she wanted something.

"Mama taught me last time. I wanna see if I'm still good at it."

Barton's eyes narrowed.

"Oh really?"

"Really. Unless you don't know how to skate."

He didn't. But in his defense, no-one never asked him to go ice-skating for a mission.

"Why should I go ice-skating with you?"

Jeremy revealed a toothy grin.

"Because I wanna see if you are as agile as mama claims you to be."

"Oh, and how agile did she claim me to be?" Good way of seeing how Natasha pictured him.

"You can hold on a tree branch for three hours without moving. And you were in the circus and walked down the wire a couple of times. Ice-skating should be easy for you!" Barton's stare didn't falter. "Fine" the kid huffed. "Can we go to the movies instead? The new Cars is out."

"Cars?" Clint repeated.

"Yeah, a cartoon with cars in it."

"Fine. Whatever." He muttered. He might as well go and get over with it. What could be worse than accompanying a kid to the movies?

"And can we go to Chucky Cheese next?" Jeremy asked with sweet innocence shining in his green eyes.

This time Barton glared. But they ended up going anyway.

The next time they met, Jeremy had managed to trick him into bringing him to a baseball game. Clint would have been more compliant had the damn kid hadn't bought that stupid cheese hat for him and forced him to wear it. The game had been good though, which was a small consolation. Driving on the way back to the park though –the kid refused to show him where he lived- Jeremy looked a little down. The smile on his face was small and genuine, but the shadow in his eyes was unmistakable.

"What's going on kid?" Barton asked as they stopped at a red light.

"It's nothing."

He could have easily fooled him, had Clint not been more attentive to his tone. He reminded him of Natalie when he acted like this. On impulse, he pulled over on the sidewalk and turned to face the kid. Jeremy had been cheerful the whole day; why did he look depressed now?

"Something's on your mind. Tell me."

Jeremy glared at him but caved eventually.

"I saw Marcus in the crowd. He's some jerk in my class."

Clint felt the reason coming.

"Does he bully you?"

Jeremy shrugged.

"Nothing I can't handle. He just opens his mouth sometimes about me not having a real family. Mama says I should ignore him 'cause he's an idiot and he's jealous."

"But his words get to you all the same." Clint said softly. He remembered too well seeing the kid's expression on his own face. It reminded him that the Widow was still a spy, and must have been away for long periods of time while he grew up. His own missions could go up to eight months when he needed a deep cover. Even Maria hated leaving her beloved twins behind for too long. And from the moments he had spent with the kid, the archer gathered that Jeremy had grown without a paternal figure.

"Most of the time they don't." Jeremy said. "Mama's right; he's annoyed that I'm not scared of him. And his parents are always angry, while I might just have mama but we're always having fun."

Clint didn't know what to say. His own childhood hadn't given him a great example on how father-son relationships worked. Heck, at that point he would have rather grown without a father. But Jeremy wasn't him and although he clearly knew how lucky he was, he still yearned for more. After an inward groan, Clint took a resolve and said:

"Listen kid, I'll be honest, I'm still skeptical about that I'm-your-son thing." A flash of hurt crossed Jeremy's face, but he concealed it quickly. "But…fuck I suck at words –if you need me, I'm there. Got it?"

Jeremy's eyes suddenly widened in shock this time, but again he covered it fast. Instead, he merely nodded. Clint started the engine again and drove away, but he still caught the genuine light smile on the boy's face. For some reason, it made him happier.

10 days later

Natasha pushed the door of the Residence open with a sigh of relief. Two weeks of following a target and eventually conclude they would never fit in the STRAYS program? A perfect waste of time. As she more or less expected the building was empty -safe for Milla baking in the kitchen with her six year old daughter, Becky. That was a sight that always made Natasha smirk: a great renowned mercenary specialized in chemicals and explosives making cookies with a flour-covered child. The best part? Their cookies were awesome. Too bad she couldn't cook and neither could Jeremy.

When she spotted the redhead, Milla sent her daughter off to the bathroom to wash her hands.

"Hard task?" she asked once Becky had left the room.

"Maria took the guy out with a one shot." Natasha replied in annoyance. "He wasn't up to his reputation at all."

"And the criteria for recruitment?"

"Bogus. Our informant got it all wrong; it was the neighbor's kid." The redhead shook her head in disbelief. "Unreliable incompetent people, I swear. Anyway, where's Jer?"

"Out to the park" Milla said with a side smirk. "He said he got a new friend. I'm thinking more in the lines of girlfriend. Looks like Gillian Hill has competition."

Natasha rolled her eyes.

"Last thing I need is Maria laughing about her daughter's crush on my son." She said with a hint of annoyance mixed with amusement. "Which park?"

"The usual I'd say. The one you two go to goof around." The alarm on the stove rang, and Milla sighed heavily. "I love cooking but I can't wait till my Becky is old enough to wave a gun. Or understand how to make things go boom."

"I started training Jeremy at six" Natasha pointed out. Milla snorted.

"Please remember all kids aren't born with a gun in hand like yours" the woman retorted with a hint of amusement. "Anyway," she added, turning towards the stove to check the cooking process. "Jeremy's been gone all afternoon. I'm sure he won't mind if his mom shows up to surprise him."

Natasha took the hint and left the room with a genuine smile.