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awritinglilypeaTitle: Thin Pink Line
Fandom: The Avengers
Pairing: Clint Barton/Darcy Lewis
Rating: PG
Complete: No
Genre: Fluff, angst, hurt/comfort
Summary: Darcy and Clint have a little bit of a talk about their childhoods, and a little bit of a talk about their fears.
Warnings: Contains talk of assault in this chapter, as well as child abuse.
Notes:Dedicated to ibonekoen who basicaly wrote three quarters of this story with me.
And to my best friend, and someone I love dearly. You're still making me proud, and I'm still so happy you're making me an Auntie.
Previous Chapters
It didn't take overly long to get Clint moved fully into her room, considering he hadn't been wrong about the box of socks, most of which Darcy had thrown out because like most men Clint seemed to think his toes needed airing out. His weapons case was moved into the living room, and she didn't bat an eyelash at the gun he stuck behind the headboard, considering there was already a place there for it.
Once he was all moved in though he seemed to make it his life's mission to annoy her by being fussy.
She glared at him from where she had been placed on the couch, like a doll on a shelf, holding a box of Chinese in one hand and chopsticks with another.
“What if I'm not hungry?” She asked him, arching an eyebrow finely.
Clint shook his head, “I don't know if you're hungry but that baby is half Barton and you know from personal experiences that Barton's like to eat, so get on that woman, I'll even put on Lord of the Rings and let you call me Legolas for the next week.”
Darcy brandished her chopsticks, poking him in the side with one of them. “Let's get one thing clear, Barton, if I want to, since I am having your little archer I will call you Legolas for however long I want.”
Laughing softly Clint dropped down onto the couch next to her and slung an arm around her shoulders. “Okay babe, I'll let you call me Legolas if you let me call you Arwen,” he squeezed her leg with his free hand, leering slightly.
Darcy snorted through a mouthful of lemon chicken, barely managing to keep from choking she chewed then swallowed quickly. “I think they were related in some way,” she murmured, taking a sip of water.
“Were they?” Clint squinted, seeming like he was trying to remember. “I'll ask Bruce.”
Darcy leaned into his side a little bit, “What was your childhood like?”
Clint stiffened just the slightest bit, then huffed out a breath of air. “Very unpleasant,” he replied, a muscle clenching in his jaw. “My parents weren't...affectionate...and they died when I was very young in a car crash, my father had been drinking. It was just me and Barney.”
“And you were in an orphanage right?” Darcy asked, coaxing the story out of him a little gentler than she would most. “For how long?”
“Six years,” Clint replied, kissing her forehead quickly, almost as though he was grounding himself. “We were there for six years, and sometimes it wasn't so bad, we would get fostered occasionally but it never panned out. We didn't want to be separated and didn't really behave,” he explained further. “I was about 12 when we saw Carson's Carnival of Travelling Wonders.”
Darcy smiled just a little bit, noting that even though the tension didn't leave his body his eyes still lit up a little. “And that's where you learned...everything?”
Clint nodded his head, “that's where I learned my skill set yeah, and a lot of things that no kid should have to know. A lot of things our child will learn over my dead body.”
Nodding Darcy squeezed his hand, popping another piece of chicken into her mouth carefully chewing. “You don't have to tell me everything, I just...wanted know.”
“It's okay, I'll tell you more later,” Clint turned his hand over so he could hold hers, studying their hands for a moment. “Your childhood?”
“I was the word's most awesome accident,” Darcy laughed softly, setting her food aside for the moment. “My mom was money, she was born into old money,” she explained.
“You do not look like that kinda girl,” Clint looked her up and down, wiggling his eyebrows. “I mean, you're not stuck up, and I'm pretty sure those jeans cost you 10 dollars, just cause I remember you braggin' about them, plus they make your ass look wonderful.”
Darcy shook her head, kissing him quickly on the lips she smiled when his hand slid out of hers as he moved her around so she was half on top of him, leaning against his chest so he could place his hand possessively on her stomach.
“Let me continue,” she murmured, pinching his leg. “My mom was born into money, and there were expectations, to be perfect, get the good grades, go to the right schools and marry the right man.”
“I am guessing your father...” Clint trailed off, studying her expression.
“He was not the right man, he was lower middle class, his dad was in the war, and after it worked as a transport operator, his mom was a stay at home mom who had more interest in PTA meetings, and baking cookies for her three children then how to climb a social ladder,” Darcy explained.
“Would that be your nana?” Clint asked, recalling a few stories about her.
Darcy nodded and smiled, “She is my favourite relative. So my dad got my mom pregnant, and even though her parents didn't want them together they forced them to get married. They stayed together until I was three, and then after that it was a series of tennis tournaments, with me as the ball.”
Clint winced, shaking his head, “That fucking sucks. Good thing we're gonna raise our kid together huh?”
Darcy chuckled softly, shaking her head as well she couldn't believe him. “I don't want our child to be raised and told to be something their not, he or she can do whatever they want short of a life of crime, right?”
“Right,” Clint kissed her softly on the lips, pulling her fully into his lap this time he rubbed his hand up and down her back.
“Are you scared at all?” Darcy asked him, wanting to know if he felt any of the same fear she did, if he had any of the same concerns or worries.
“Fucking terrified,” Clint confirmed, and she could feel his smile as his lips pressed against her throat. “I'm always scared of losing you, and now I just have one more thing to lose,” he muttered against her skin.
“You won't lose us,” Darcy shifted around so she could snuggle into his arms properly, smiling a bit because she would remember a time when he hadn't known how exactly to be physically affectionate.
“I also don't have the biggest role model when it comes to good parenting,” Clint sighed softly, but didn't seem as tense as before.
“Do any of us? Your parents died, Steve's mom died after his dad left him, Tony's parents were...Starks, Natasha came out of the Red Room and Bruce's parents were a bag of dicks,” Darcy replied, “but yet you're all good people at heart.”
“This kid is going to be one of the most protected children in the universe,” Clint nodded his head, squeezing her lightly. “Coulson's parents are pretty normal.”
“Sure they are, he was probably in a suit at birth,” Darcy closed her eyes, leaning into him she just felt tired.
Clint snorted, but didn't comment, stroking her back until she fell asleep.
Fandom: The Avengers
Pairing: Clint Barton/Darcy Lewis
Rating: PG
Complete: No
Genre: Fluff, angst, hurt/comfort
Summary: Darcy and Clint have a little bit of a talk about their childhoods, and a little bit of a talk about their fears.
Warnings: Contains talk of assault in this chapter, as well as child abuse.
Notes:Dedicated to ibonekoen who basicaly wrote three quarters of this story with me.
And to my best friend, and someone I love dearly. You're still making me proud, and I'm still so happy you're making me an Auntie.
Previous Chapters
It didn't take overly long to get Clint moved fully into her room, considering he hadn't been wrong about the box of socks, most of which Darcy had thrown out because like most men Clint seemed to think his toes needed airing out. His weapons case was moved into the living room, and she didn't bat an eyelash at the gun he stuck behind the headboard, considering there was already a place there for it.
Once he was all moved in though he seemed to make it his life's mission to annoy her by being fussy.
She glared at him from where she had been placed on the couch, like a doll on a shelf, holding a box of Chinese in one hand and chopsticks with another.
“What if I'm not hungry?” She asked him, arching an eyebrow finely.
Clint shook his head, “I don't know if you're hungry but that baby is half Barton and you know from personal experiences that Barton's like to eat, so get on that woman, I'll even put on Lord of the Rings and let you call me Legolas for the next week.”
Darcy brandished her chopsticks, poking him in the side with one of them. “Let's get one thing clear, Barton, if I want to, since I am having your little archer I will call you Legolas for however long I want.”
Laughing softly Clint dropped down onto the couch next to her and slung an arm around her shoulders. “Okay babe, I'll let you call me Legolas if you let me call you Arwen,” he squeezed her leg with his free hand, leering slightly.
Darcy snorted through a mouthful of lemon chicken, barely managing to keep from choking she chewed then swallowed quickly. “I think they were related in some way,” she murmured, taking a sip of water.
“Were they?” Clint squinted, seeming like he was trying to remember. “I'll ask Bruce.”
Darcy leaned into his side a little bit, “What was your childhood like?”
Clint stiffened just the slightest bit, then huffed out a breath of air. “Very unpleasant,” he replied, a muscle clenching in his jaw. “My parents weren't...affectionate...and they died when I was very young in a car crash, my father had been drinking. It was just me and Barney.”
“And you were in an orphanage right?” Darcy asked, coaxing the story out of him a little gentler than she would most. “For how long?”
“Six years,” Clint replied, kissing her forehead quickly, almost as though he was grounding himself. “We were there for six years, and sometimes it wasn't so bad, we would get fostered occasionally but it never panned out. We didn't want to be separated and didn't really behave,” he explained further. “I was about 12 when we saw Carson's Carnival of Travelling Wonders.”
Darcy smiled just a little bit, noting that even though the tension didn't leave his body his eyes still lit up a little. “And that's where you learned...everything?”
Clint nodded his head, “that's where I learned my skill set yeah, and a lot of things that no kid should have to know. A lot of things our child will learn over my dead body.”
Nodding Darcy squeezed his hand, popping another piece of chicken into her mouth carefully chewing. “You don't have to tell me everything, I just...wanted know.”
“It's okay, I'll tell you more later,” Clint turned his hand over so he could hold hers, studying their hands for a moment. “Your childhood?”
“I was the word's most awesome accident,” Darcy laughed softly, setting her food aside for the moment. “My mom was money, she was born into old money,” she explained.
“You do not look like that kinda girl,” Clint looked her up and down, wiggling his eyebrows. “I mean, you're not stuck up, and I'm pretty sure those jeans cost you 10 dollars, just cause I remember you braggin' about them, plus they make your ass look wonderful.”
Darcy shook her head, kissing him quickly on the lips she smiled when his hand slid out of hers as he moved her around so she was half on top of him, leaning against his chest so he could place his hand possessively on her stomach.
“Let me continue,” she murmured, pinching his leg. “My mom was born into money, and there were expectations, to be perfect, get the good grades, go to the right schools and marry the right man.”
“I am guessing your father...” Clint trailed off, studying her expression.
“He was not the right man, he was lower middle class, his dad was in the war, and after it worked as a transport operator, his mom was a stay at home mom who had more interest in PTA meetings, and baking cookies for her three children then how to climb a social ladder,” Darcy explained.
“Would that be your nana?” Clint asked, recalling a few stories about her.
Darcy nodded and smiled, “She is my favourite relative. So my dad got my mom pregnant, and even though her parents didn't want them together they forced them to get married. They stayed together until I was three, and then after that it was a series of tennis tournaments, with me as the ball.”
Clint winced, shaking his head, “That fucking sucks. Good thing we're gonna raise our kid together huh?”
Darcy chuckled softly, shaking her head as well she couldn't believe him. “I don't want our child to be raised and told to be something their not, he or she can do whatever they want short of a life of crime, right?”
“Right,” Clint kissed her softly on the lips, pulling her fully into his lap this time he rubbed his hand up and down her back.
“Are you scared at all?” Darcy asked him, wanting to know if he felt any of the same fear she did, if he had any of the same concerns or worries.
“Fucking terrified,” Clint confirmed, and she could feel his smile as his lips pressed against her throat. “I'm always scared of losing you, and now I just have one more thing to lose,” he muttered against her skin.
“You won't lose us,” Darcy shifted around so she could snuggle into his arms properly, smiling a bit because she would remember a time when he hadn't known how exactly to be physically affectionate.
“I also don't have the biggest role model when it comes to good parenting,” Clint sighed softly, but didn't seem as tense as before.
“Do any of us? Your parents died, Steve's mom died after his dad left him, Tony's parents were...Starks, Natasha came out of the Red Room and Bruce's parents were a bag of dicks,” Darcy replied, “but yet you're all good people at heart.”
“This kid is going to be one of the most protected children in the universe,” Clint nodded his head, squeezing her lightly. “Coulson's parents are pretty normal.”
“Sure they are, he was probably in a suit at birth,” Darcy closed her eyes, leaning into him she just felt tired.
Clint snorted, but didn't comment, stroking her back until she fell asleep.
