All of these little stories tie into my Not An Ordinary Family story.
Some are happy and fluffy and cute. Some are angsty. Some might have a trigger warning, some are depressing, and it's basically just a roller coaster of emotions that I integrate into innocent children's lives.
'Cuz I'm just an awful person like that.
I'll try to give every ship a 'fair share' in this, but it depends on what mood I'm in when I'm writing so I'm sorry if I give a certain ship more chapters than another. Just let me know if I'm doing that though.
I love reviews so if you guys like it, please let me know or I'll get real self conscious about myself and possibly just give this up...
And I have terrible grammar, without even realizing it. So, correct me on that.
"Do you think he'll be up there for as long this time?" Amelia Barton sniffed, wiping her eyes to stop the tears that threatened to flow. The five year old sat next to her older brother, Phillip, at the bottom of a hill. They looked up to their father, who was at the top, underneath a tree, back facing his children as he looked down.
At a gravestone.
"It's barely been a few months, Amy." The seven year old boy answered, fingers threaded together in his lap. "He'll be up there longer."
The two sat in silence. A car crash. A simple thing like that. Something that happens hundreds of times a day is what killed her. All because some drunk idiot ran a stop light.
It's pretty ironic, actually.
Everyone assumed that Natasha Romanoff would go out with a bang. In a battle, in a fight, in an explosion. Never a stupid car wreck. The drunk bastard was almost lucky he died on impact too, for Clint would have made sure that he would've gone out a much more painful way if he had the choice.
It was an awfully sunny day in the silent cemetery. Phillip wished that it would have just kept on raining ever since that day in late July. Natasha was driving to pick up food. It was literally only two blocks away. He sniffed and looked at the ground. Quickly blinking back the moisture in his eyes. He would not cry. Not right now.
Clint has always told Phillip that he had to watch out for Amelia. To protect her. So the young boy didn't let himself be weak in front of her. Of course Phillip was too young to understand exactly what he was protecting his sister from. He knew that Clint's, 'job' was fairly dangerous. Both he siblings figured that out quickly when he parents would come home after days, always looking tired and always with some sort of injury he attempted to keep hidden.
Amelia blamed Fury.
An hour passed and the younger sibling ended up falling asleep on Phillip's lap. Eventually being picked up by her father, after he finally came down from the hill, and was carried into the car.
The three silently drove home.
This was the part Clint hated the most.
He ran a tired hand over his face as he leaned against the cold metal of the elevator as it carried him down to the garage at 3 AM. He hated whenever his phone ran and Fury would inform him that he had a mission brief in 48 hours and wheels up in 49. He hated waking up to his alarm clock screaming at him, and knowing that he couldn't press snooze because there would be no Natasha to wake him up after the archer ignored the beeping. He hated getting his kids awake, and moving them up to Tony and Steve's floor. He hated telling them he had to leave for reasons they can't understand. He absolutely hated that look in both their eyes. . And he hated how he forced himself to try and forget about them for the sake of a mission. But he had to do it. He was not supposed to be a father, he was supposed to be an assassin.
Emotional detachment was sort of a requirement.
But Clint hated it anyway.
I made this first chapter sad so I could get it out of the way...
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