Shorter chap, I know, but if I had left it as it originally was, it would have been waaaaay too long.

Enjoy :)

STRAYS

*Chapter 7*

"Not like that! You don't throw a Frisbee like it was a baseball ball!" Jeremy shouted, slightly exasperated. Clint nearly rolled his eyes.

He had spent every afternoon of the past ten days in the kid's company to learn more about him and his life, trying to find out subtly about his mother and her whereabouts. In the end, he felt he had spent all his free time yielding to the kid's desires. Clint truthfully hadn't learnt much, Jeremy kept his cards close; but he had to admit if that boy truly was his son…he would be the son he had dreamt of having with Natalie. He loved spending time with him. The kid had inherited his mom's focused and analytical mind, but whenever it was playtime, the Barton enthusiastic side showed up. Yes, Clint was growing attached to him; Jeremy was easy to love.

"The trajectory was nice and clean and it hit the spot" The archer replied, frowning at the plastic disk in his hand. For the past ten minutes, Jeremy had been trying to teach him how to throw a Frisbee. This was ironic since he was supposed to be the world's best marksman. The boy huffed indignantly at his words:

"You threw it wrong!"

But damn, that kid was so bossy!

"Then show me again, smartass."

Jeremy took the toy from his hand and positioned himself in front of the man. He paused into what he called the 'right' posture and…

The feeling he was being watched hit Clint like a fist in the guts. He stiffened and glanced quickly around, looking out for anyone standing out of the crowd. Nothing appeared abnormal at first; but his instinct never failed him. A wave of protectiveness aroused within; if he was in danger, he wasn't the only one in the line of fire. Civilians were out there. Jeremy was with him. He had to protect the kid. Clint took a second, more careful look, not wanting a potential enemy busting him, busting them, in the middle of a nice afternoon. Families were playing with their kids, passerbys strolling. A redhead woman stood on the sidewalk.

Their eyes met and his heart stopped beating.

Natasha was stunned. No other word could describe her current state. Any assassin would have had the perfect opportunity to take her down right now, because she knew doubtlessly she could be knocked by a feather. Her son was playing Frisbee with Hawkeye. Her Jeremy was teaching (bossing around) a notorious assassin and the best marksman she'd ever met on how to throw a bit of plastic. The situation would have been hilarious, had she not been so terrified.

This was Hawkeye, aka Clint Barton, the man who had wanted to marry her nine years ago, the man who had given her Jeremy, and incidentally the man she had nearly killed. He looked just as stiffened at her appearance as she was, but not surprised. She deduced then that he suspected –if not knew –that Jeremy was related to her. 'A new friend' Milla had said. Her guts twisted in understanding; Barton hadn't found his son; somehow Jeremy had come to him.

Natasha should have known that day would come. After all the stories she had told him about his father, she knew how curious the boy was about the man and would grasp the first opportunity to meet him. She just hadn't expected it to be so soon.

"Jeremy." She called out firmly, her voice not betraying an ounce of emotion. The boy finally noticed her and grinned. His smile faded though when he realized she was not returning it. "In the car. Now."

The boy looked like he wanted to protest, but one pointed stare was enough to make him scramble. Natasha handed him the keys but didn't look at him as he took them. Her only focus was the man dressed in a casual pair of jeans and purple hoodies, currently staring back at her with the same impassible stare she was giving him.

Clint had aged, Natasha thought, but in a good way. His silhouette was still strong and firm, she would bet her monthly wage that he was still all muscle underneath these clothes. His face was still sharp and angular, his gaze (Jeremy's gaze, she thought with a pang in her chest) still intense. A few goose lines were carved around his eyes now and his jaw was tight, his tell when he was truly tensed. He still looked dangerous. And she still felt that flutter in her chest and lower stomach when he looked at her.

Natasha wasn't stupid though. Barton was a killer at core; if she attempted any wrong move, he would make his own in a blink of the eye. The same went the other way round too. The mere thought of him spending time with Jeremy under no supervision made her guts clench in unease. Who knew what kind of information Jeremy could have slipped, even unintentionally? She had had taught him tricks to avoid speaking of the STRAYS, the Residence but Hawkeye was smart too. Even though Natasha doubted he'd take advantage of a child, Jeremy was hers. And who knew what kind of feelings he harbored against her?

Last time, he seemed willing to welcome her back with arms wide open. But last time he was halfway knocked out and rambling because of a poison. Natasha had kept tabs on him over time. She knew he had married a fellow SHIELD agent. She knew he had divorced her two years after. She also knew he had had no kids from that union, although she clearly remembered him wanting some of his own. The one conclusion she had drawn did not appeal to her.

This Barton was no longer the man she knew and she had no idea how to deal with him.

Clint had expected this day somehow, had started hanging out with Jeremy because of this day, but it still came too unexpectedly and sooner than he would have liked. An attempt assassination and nine years later, Natalia Romanova was finally standing before him.

He had no idea how to react.

The redhead's face remained unreadable. She looked good though. The short hair suited her, but it was her intense green eyes that brought back the memories. They use to be so open, so smiling and loving. Now they appeared wary and suspicious which, frankly, didn't surprise him. If he added the dry tone she had used to send Jeremy away, Clint could only conclude she feared more for her kid than herself. No matter how good she was at hiding her feelings, he would recognize the protectiveness everywhere: Maria had the same attitude whenever her twins were concerned.

Clint decided to move, since she obviously wouldn't, cautiously. One slow step towards her, the two, then three, until he stood about two meters away. The whole time, she hadn't looked away and her shoulders had slightly moved in a defensive mode. So she still considered him a threat. Good.

"Hey." He decided to say. He had made the first step, had decided he would not strike because Jeremy would be watching and he was pretty sure she wouldn't too. He did not expect the blink of surprise, as if his word had startled her.

"Hey back." Natasha replied, her voice deceivingly casual and warm. "So, you've met Jeremy."

She was going straight to the point, as always. That was something he loved about her. Had loved, Clint corrected himself.

"He came to me straightforwardly. Is he always so reckless?" While Clint would have never harmed a kid, he had to admit he was still startled by the obvious lack of fear Jeremy had shown when they had first spoken. Natasha frowned in distaste, her eyes narrowing and her mouth thinning in a displeased grimace.

"He has no sense of self-preservation." She retorted dryly. "I blame you."

Clint's heart picked up this time.

"So he is mine."

Natasha nodded and Clint saw no lies in her eyes. The world slowly started to spin around and he felt dizzy. He had been truthful when he had told Jeremy he only half-believed him. A large part of him was skeptical; why would his former lover keep his child? He had been an assignment, nothing else. But a small part couldn't stop hoping she hadn't been lying, that she'd loved him in spite of everything; that he had meant something to her. That nagging belief had butchered his life after all.

Clint didn't know what to think anymore. After that past week, he tended to believe Jeremy…but suspecting and knowing were two very different things.

"Should we take this elsewhere?"

Clint nearly jumped, startled by her voice. He cursed himself when he realized he had involuntarily drifted off and lowered her guard. It could have been a crucial mistake in the presence of one of the most lethal women in the world. For some reasons though, she didn't seem eager to end him.

"You're planning to get rid of me?"

"I wouldn't do that to Jeremy." Natasha replied with a nonchalant shrug. "He's wanted to meet you forever; I won't take this away from him."

"So you won't stab me in the back again?" he asked sarcastically. She tilted her head on the side, her short red hair shifting with the movement. Her intense green eyes scanned him carefully for awhile. Once she found what she wanted, the redhead shrugged.

"As long as you don't try to stab mine, I see no reason to."

Those who expected a fight, sorry to disappoint. I wrote this taking in account the fact that Jeremy was in the picture and Natasha wouldn't kill Clint unless he was a real threat to him. Plus, she does owe him an explanation :)