A/N: I'm so sorry for taking so long to update! Life just got in the way, and things have been crazy busy with me. I hope that everyone enjoys this update, and I will (hopefully) have more time to write over the summer!

"Mama?" James looked up at Clint expectantly.

"Sorry, buddy, Mama and Daddy aren't home yet. I thought we already went over this," Clint tried to make his ten-month old "nephew" understand.

"Daddy?" Now it was Lucy's turn to ask. "Mama" and "Daddy" were about the only words that the twins could say thus far. Of course, this didn't help when Steve and Natasha were actually away.

"You two just like to torture me, don't you?" At that, Lucy smiled as if she actually knew what he was saying. "You're already too much like your mother, kid."

"Mama," Lucy said loudly.

Clint sighed. Steve and Natasha had been away on a mission for the last three days. They had asked Clint to come to their house in D.C. to watch James and Lucy. Of course he'd said yes. He loved spending time with his niece and nephew, but man kids are exhausting. Thankfully, Steve and Natasha were coming home this afternoon.

However, it was only 5:00 in the morning (damn, little kids get up early), so he still had a while to go.

"How about it guys? Are you hungry?" Clint asked, basically to himself. Lucy yawned in reply and James just stared at him blankly. "Tough crowd," Clint murmured. The twins were seated on the living room floor, mesmerized by whatever show was playing on the kids channel. So Clint went about making them breakfast—mashed peas—yuck. The only time he lost sight of the kids was when he turned to retrieve the jars of food from the fridge.

He heard it before he saw it.

Thunk!

The sound was hard and unforgiving, a sound that Clint had heard too many times before.

James' screams came next. In the one second that Clint had turned his back, James managed to crawl underneath the kitchen table without him noticing. When the baby tried to stand up underneath the table, his head connected with wood. James' pained screams permeated throughout the house as Clint rushed over to him. He pulled James from underneath the table and set him down on the floor to examine the damage.

There was blood everywhere. Dripping down James' face, soaking his pajamas and the tile floor. "It's okay James/ It's alright." But Clint knew that it wasn't. Clint couldn't get a good look at James—he was squirming and crying too much—but he could tell that James had hit his head right around his right eye. "Shit," he said to himself as Lucy started to cry as well.

He picked James up, and then moved to pick up Lucy—he didn't need another accident to deal with. He quickly placed Lucy in her playpen before bringing James into the bathroom. Clint then wet a towel and brought it to James' injury to try and stop the bleeding. But the child continued to fuss and cry. Clint gave up pretending to know what he was doing and dug around in his pocket with his free hand until he found his cell phone. He swiftly dialed Bruce's number.

"Bruce!" Clint said when the other man picked up, a touch of relief evident in his voice. "I need your help."

"Clint? You're going to have to speak up, I can't hear you. Is everything okay?"

"Uh, not really," Clint spoke loudly as he tried to get James to stop crying. "James wacked his head on the kitchen table and now he's bleeding everywhere. What should I do?"

"Okay Clint," Bruce seemed as calm as ever. "I need you to find a first aid kit."

Clint scrambled around the bathroom until he found the small white box. He put Bruce on speakerphone so he could focus. "Ok, I've got it."

'"Alright. Now find the butterfly stitches. You'll need to put them on the wound to stop the bleeding."

"Okay, give me a minute," Clint easily found what he was looking for. Gently, he laid James down on the shaggy bathroom rug and, using one of his hands, pinned down both of James' tiny hands above the baby's head. "I'm so sorry, buddy," Clint apologized as he applied the butterfly stitches as quickly as he could.

If he thought that James couldn't cry any louder, he was wrong. The baby began to scream bloody murder, causing his sister to scream as well.

"Clint? Can you hear me?" Bruce tried.

"Yeah," the archer shouted. "What do I do now?"

"You need to take him to the hospital at the Triskelion. They need to check and see if he has a concussion or not."

"Okay, I'll take him."

"And one more thing," Bruce started tentatively. "Steve and Natasha got back early—about an hour ago, so I would—"

As if on cue, Clint heard the front door being unlocked and Lucy excitedly cry "Daddy". Clint hung up the phone and tried, unsuccessfully, to get James to quiet down. He braced himself as he heard Natasha approach the bathroom.

"Clint?" she questioned, not yet entering the room. "What the hell is going on? Why is there blood—" Natasha stopped short when she entered the bathroom. Her expression was a mix of horror and disbelief. He was in for it. "Oh my God. Steve!" she shouted and snatched James up into her arms. She briefly examined him before snuggling him up to her chest.

At the sound of Natasha's distressed call, Steve came running down the hallway and froze when he saw his son bleeding on his wife. "Clint, what happened?"

"I just turned away for a second..." Clint was suddenly struggling to find words. "He stood up under the table and hit his head."

Natasha shot him a glare that was positively murderous. "I cannot believe that you—"

"Alright," Steve set a hand on Natasha's shoulder. "We are not going to argue about this right now. Clint, Nat and I are going to take James to the hospital. You stay here and watch Lucy."

Clint simply nodded in response.

"Do not take your eyes off her," Natasha paused to threaten before she and Steve hurried out of the bathroom and back outside.

"Well Lucy," Clint went back into the living room where his niece was watching him curiously. "Your mom is gonna kill me."

Natasha held a still-crying James tightly to her chest as she and Steve walked quickly into the hospital. She could not believe that that Clint had been stupid enough to turn his back on Lucy and James. Now look what happened. Her innocent baby boy was crying in pain and bleeding over her white shirt.

"Hi," Steve said when they reached the front desk. "Our son hit his head on a table and we can't get the bleeding to stop."

"Okay," the young girl replied. She—Emily, judging by her nametag—pushed a few buttons on the phone and murmured something that both Steve and Natasha were too tired to pick up on.

A minute later, a young doctor came out and introduced herself as Dr. Bloom. "You two can come back to the room with us," she said, referring to Steve and Natasha. "I think it'd be easier if you, Mrs. Rogers, held him while I take a look at his head."

Once in the room, Natasha firmly held James on her lap as Dr. Bloom examined him. "Well," she began after a few minutes, "the good thing is that he doesn't have a concussion." Steve and Natasha both let out a sigh of relief. "However, the bad news is that he's going to need some stitches."

Natasha took a deep breath and tried to keep herself calm. Stitches—not ideal, but it could be worse.

Dr. Bloom continued, "right now he's very upset, so I'm going to give him a mild sedative to calm him down. I'm also going to restrain him on a paposse board so I can stitch him up as neatly as possible."

"He's not going to feel anything, is he?" Steve questioned.

"No. I'll numb the area beforehand so he shouldn't feel any pain," the doctor reassured. "Now I'm going to need to take James with me. You can watch through the window, but you can't stay in the room with him."

At that, Natasha looked over at Steve nervously. James had finally stopped crying, but that wouldn't last much longer. Dr. Bloom reached down and took James from Natasha. Predictably, James looked around nervously and his little mouth turned down into a frown.

"Shh, it's okay sweetheart," Natasha reassured her son as she and Steve walked behind him and Dr. Bloom. The doctor and James entered a separate room, leaving Steve and Natasha to watch on helplessly from behind a Plexiglas window. For Natasha, even more painful than having her son taken away from her was hearing him cry for "Mama" and "Daddy". She watched on powerlessly as they strapped James onto the papoose board so he was basically in a straight jacket.

Natasha turned away as the started to sew up James. His painful cries ripped her heart into pieces. "I can't watch this, Steve."

"Nat, it's alright. He's going to be fine—"

"It's not just that. I can't believe that Clint was so careless and he let this happen."

"Look," Steve turned Natasha to face him. "It's not Clint's fault; it's not anyone's fault. Accidents happen, and, yes, they're unfortunate, but we have to make the best of a bad situation."

Natasha sighed as Steve brought his strong arms around her. "Am I a bad mother?" she questioned quietly, letting Steve see her vulnerable side.

"What? Why would you ever think that, Natasha?" Steve asked, shocked. "You're an incredible mother." He sighed and held her tighter. "You're doing great—don't let this make you think otherwise."

Steve and Natasha quickly broke apart as Dr. Bloom reentered the room with James. The baby smiled at the sight of his parents and reached his arms out to Natasha. Natasha gladly accepted James into her arms, and didn't hesitate to kiss the top of his blond head.

"He handled everything like a champ," Dr. Bloom smiled. "You just have to finish some paperwork, and then you're free to go home."

"I'll take care of it," Steve assured. "Let's get out of here and go home."

Clint stood up with Lucy in his arms when Natasha, Steve, and James entered the living room. "Is he okay?" the archer questioned nervously.

"He's fine Clint, just needed a couple of stitches," Steve said as he took Lucy from Clint. He then moved to carefully take a sleeping James from Natasha. "I'm going to try and put them down for a nap." Steve disappeared down the hallway, leaving Clint and Natasha alone in the living room.

"Nat," Clint sighed. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean—"

Natasha cut Clint off with a wave of her hand. "It's okay Clint. I know that it was an accident, and I know that you would never let James get hurt if you could help it."

Clint sighed in relief and hugged Natasha. "Thanks. But I still feel bad for the little guy. You sure he's alright?"

"Yeah, he's alright. He is Captain America's son, after all."

"More than that," Clint said. "He's your son too."

"Yeah, he is," Natasha pulled out of his embrace with a smile. "But if you ever pull that shit again, I won't be as forgiving," she said in a joking yet serious tone.

"I don't doubt that you will come up with various ways to torture me. I'll be more careful from now on. I promise."

"Good," Natasha brought him back in for another hug. "James is fine, Clint," she actually smiled to herself. "Everything's fine."