Authors Note: I'm so glad everyone liked the fight scene, it was fun to write lol and if you thought Nick was a giant teddy bear in the last chapter, wait till you read this one haha

Thanks to all those that reviewed last chapter - DucksFan1510, VioletBrock, Anise Nadiah, sammygirl1963, Lollypops101, kimbee, ClintLover and DBhawkguy30.

Bolting upright in the unfamiliar bed, Clint's eyes darted around the dark room for any sign of trouble. The teen took a moment to calm his nerves, to ease his racing heart.

Clint managed to get a whole five hours sleep before the dreams started. His mind decided to conjure up horrible ways in which his dad might be taken from him. Sliding the covers off, Barton noticed he was still wearing his clothes from yesterday. Nick must have helped him to bed, then tucked him in. The fourteen year old was thankful, knowing that the director was aware of some of the things from his past. Nick wouldn't want to do anything that might make the teen uncomfortable and if that meant not helping Clint get undressed and into his pyjamas, or boxers and a t-shirt as he'd started to wear, then that's exactly what Fury would do. The teen felt that familiar warmth flow through his veins, between Phil, Nick, Molly and his growing list of family, Barton wasn't sure what he'd done to deserve their love, trust and affection. He didn't know if he ever would, still he was eternally grateful to have them in his life.

Sneaking a glance at the clock on the bed side table, he realised it was still early, too early to be up and about, though Clint doubted he'd be getting any more sleep. He got out of bed and grabbed his bag of clothes, searching for his plain white t-shirt and sweat pants. Once he found them he headed to the bathroom for a quick shower, needing to scrub away the horrible images. Usually the relaxing warm spray would help calm him, making him feel refreshed. After ten minutes he switched the shower off and stepped out, drying himself with the nearest towel before changing into his workout clothes, then proceeded to pad bare foot to the door at the end of the hall with the key pad outside. Clint bit down on his lower lip, fidgeting from side to side while fighting an internal battle with himself on whether to enter the room. It was apparent to the teen that Nick hadn't let him see the code just so he could go play with the weapons. It wasn't exactly a play room, yet Barton felt assured in the knowledge that the director trusted him not to do anything stupid and was aware of his battles with nightmares. He wasn't going to go down and start firing weapons anyway. Clint just needed to clear his head. What better way was there to relax for the teen than to practise his acrobatics? With a nod to himself, he entered the code, waiting for the light to flash green then pushed it open. Grinning to himself, he slipped inside.

Nick rolled out of bed just after seven, his gut screaming at him to wake up. Growling in frustration, laced with a hint of worry, once he remembered Clint was staying with him, he made his way to the spare room. Knocking twice, and hearing nothing, the older man stepped inside. Dread coursed through his body at the sight of the empty bed, where the hell was he? The sudden image of a pissed off Phil kicking his ass made the older man scowl, then as if a light bulb went off in Nick's head, he made his way to his secret room.

He heard Barton before he saw him. The teen was working out on the mat, showing off how athletic he was by somersaulting across the length of the floor. Fury couldn't help but appreciate the kid's finale before he finished his landing. The teen managed to curl his body even smaller and twist twice in the air, landing steadily at the edge of the training mat.

Clint's head shot up at the sound of clapping. His eyes twinkling in amusement as Nick walked towards him, worry clearly evident in the man's eyes. Though that look was diminishing by the second when he realised how relaxed Barton was.

"You alright?" Nick still felt the need to ask.

The young archer nodded, grabbing a bottle of water from Nick's secret stash and taking a swig. "Yeah. I'm good now."

Fury watched the boy carefully for any sign that he was lying, finding none he smirked. "Good," he paused before adding. "If you need to talk Clint, I'm more than happy to listen."

"Thanks Nick. But I'm okay. Just needed a little workout," Barton assured him.

Nick nodded, then arched an eyebrow. "A little workout?"

Clint laughed. "You want to go again? I thought for sure after last time you'd be too afraid."

The director chuckled, only the kid would get away with saying something like that to him. "Is that so, I think it's time for a rematch Barton."

Nick quickly warmed up, stretching his arms and neck before settling in to his fighting stance. If the cocky grin from his opponent was anything to go by, Fury had a feeling this fight was going to be good.

The director realised that Clint was even more dangerous. Once relaxed and centred, Barton was even more in control, his focus on his opponent and surroundings was unflappable. Nick watched him flip, roll and spring backwards to avoid his attacks. Sweat soaked Barton's t-shirt from the rigorous workout though the teen didn't seem to notice, his breathing deep and even, his blue gaze locked on to the older man. Fury had a sudden thought of Clint going up against the new recruits; chuckling to himself he realised they didn't stand a chance.

The fight lasted twenty minutes, Clint finally landing a solid hit to the director's chest. The older man scowled, though there was humour dancing behind his good eye. Barton was busy being smug, giving Nick an opportunity to put him on the mat.

"Jeez…." Clint huffed, the hard landing winding him. He glowered at the taller man, seeing the director smirk before holding out his hand.

"Never take your eyes off the prize Clint. You could have had me if you weren't busy celebrating the fact you landed a hit." He paused, staring Barton in the eye once he was on his feet. Smiling in satisfaction, he nodded to the teen. "Well done, by the way."

The archer felt his face flush, giving a half shrug. "Thanks."

"You'll definitely be a force to be reckoned with if you keep that up."

Clint grinned, feeling deeply honoured by Nick's words. The older man was known only to give praise if it was deserved, so the fact that his skills were being recognised by someone he respected was enough to make his heart swell in delight.

Fury clapped the youngster's shoulder. "Come on, let's get something to eat."

As if in answer to his statement, Clint's stomach growled. "I think that means yes," replied Barton.

"I think so to."

Together they headed upstairs, the director shoving the boy towards the bathroom. "You can jump in for a shower while I cook us something."

Clint frowned. "I already had one."

"Well kid, you need another. You stink." Nick laughed at the glare he received, and the muttered, "you stink too." Watching as the teen did as he was told regardless, entering the bathroom and shooting a final scowl at the man before shutting the door.

Fury chuckled as he headed for the fridge. It still struck him on the odd occasion that he was Clint's god father. That if, god forbid anything happened to Phil, it would be him left to take care of the boy. The thought scared him, not because he didn't think he could do it, more that he wasn't sure Barton would be able to come back from that particular loss. He was damn sure he would struggle with that one. Shaking his head slightly to remove those upsetting thoughts, he almost flinched as a hand touched his arm.

"Nick? You okay?" Barton's eyes were full of concern, wondering what could possibly make the director look anguished.

Fury sighed, nodding, not realising how much time had passed as he stood there thinking those troubling thoughts. He really didn't want to have that discussion with the boy. Instead he pulled Clint forward, wrapping his arms around him tightly. The teen wasn't sure what was going on but he relaxed against the taller man after a brief pause, bringing his own arms up to hug the director. Now he was adamant that Nick was a giant teddy bear. He smirked into the man's chest.

"What are you grinning at?" Nick asked.

Clint pulled back, his expression awed. How the hell did Fury do that? Shaking his head at his own silent question, he really should know better. Nick observed everything; you didn't become the director of a Government agency without special skills. "I was thinking you are a giant teddy bear."

"Is that so?" Fury arched an eyebrow.

Barton nodded, lips curved upward knowingly. "Yup. I have proof now."

"Really?"

"Uh huh." Clint placed his hand over his own heart. "Right here."

"You're getting sappy, kid."

"I'm not the one that pulled you into a hug." Clint shot back, his eyes shining with amusement.

"Fine," Nick conceded, "I am, but only with you. That stays between us, Barton." As an afterthought he added. "Just keep in mind I've always got my eye on you, kid."

Clint grinned brightly. "Of course." Glancing past the taller man, the teen pointed towards the fridge. "Were you actually planning on making something out of that?" his hand waving in the direction of the open refrigerator.

Nick frowned, there really wasn't much there. They'd either have to go out to the grocery store, or go out for something. The smirk spreading on the teens face suggested he was thinking the latter.

"We'll go out for something, but first, I'm going to have a shower." The director headed towards the bathroom, scowling to himself when he heard the muttered, "Thank god."