Chapter Text
The first time that he held their daughter, Clint could not believe how small she still was. Four weeks old, and only just bigger than his hand.
The first time that he saw their twin children, they could both fit into one of his hands, with room to spare.
-
He had been on a mission, when Natasha had gone into labour.
He hadn’t known until he stepped foot off the jet, and was taken straight to the Tower, rather than to debriefing.
There, while he was covered in post mission filth, Natasha told him the news.
The twins were born at thirty two weeks, and would be staying in NICU until they grew a bit more.
“And you are definitely not going anywhere near them until you have had a shower,” Natasha had smiled at him, pointing to the adjacent shower.
When he got out, there was a fresh set of clothes waiting for him.
“Did you bring me a change of clothes?” He asked Natasha when he came out of the bathroom.
She nodded. “Of course. It was part of the bag. Now, do you want to go and meet our children?”
“What do they look like?”
“I don’t know,” Natasha’s mouth twisted up in that way that Clint recognised as her trying not to cry. “They had to take them away straight away, and I haven’t been able to leave the room. And I didn’t want to meet them until you were here.”
Clint came over to the bed, and put an arm around Natasha’s shoulders. “Hey, you alright?”
Natasha shook her head, wiping at her eyes before leaning her head on Clint’s shoulder. “Better now that you are here.”
Clint held on to one of Natasha’s hands, and kissed the top of her head. “Guess I’m going on leave a bit earlier than expected.”
Natasha nodded, before sitting up and pointing at a wheelchair. “I’m going to need some help getting there.”
Clint stood up, holding his arms out. “Like this?”
Natasha nodded, and Clint picked her up bridal style, walking over and putting her down on the wheelchair. He paused for a moment, just staring into Natasha’s eyes.
“What are you doing?”
He smiled, leaning forward to press a kiss to her lips. “We’re parents. Can you believe it?”
Natasha smiled, reaching out to pat Clint’s cheek. “Yes, yes I can. Now, shall we go and meet them?”
-
“They’re so tiny,” Clint whispered, staring at the two incubators next to each other. He reached out to take Natasha’s hand.
Natasha squeezed it back. “Of course they are. Thirty weeks. But they’re strong. Just like their father.”
Clint turned to Natasha, raising an eyebrow at her. “I think they might get that from you, my dear.”
Natasha shrugged a shoulder, looking back at their twins. “They’re so small, they won’t be coming home anytime soon.”
“They are home,” Clint said. When Natasha turned to him, frowning, he shrugged at her, lifting the hand that he was still holding and kissing the back of it. “My home is wherever you are. Has been for years. And now, home is wherever the three of you are.”
Natasha shook her head, smiling the entire time. “So sentimental. Who knew?”
“All it took was seeing these two,” he agreed, leaning down to kiss Natasha’s cheek. “Any ideas for names?”
Natasha hummed, reaching out with her free hand to trace patterns on the side of one of the incubators.
“Liam,” Natasha whispered, before looking at Clint. “Liam?”
Clint nodded. “Liam. Sounds perfect.”
“Liam Alistair,” Natasha repeated, still watching their son. “Like we talked about?”
“I remember,” Clint looked to their daughter, who was sound asleep. “Jordan?”
“She looks like a Jordan,” Natasha muttered, reaching out to trace over her incubator. “Jordan Sacha.”
“They sound perfect,” Clint smiled. “Jordan and Liam Romanoff.”
Natasha turned to Clint. “Romanoff? Really?”
“What, you want them to have Barton as a surname?”
Both looked each other. Neither of them particularly liked the history associated with their names.
“How about,” Natasha spoke. “Barton-Romanoff. Then, they can decide which one they want to keep.”
“What’s in a name anyway?” Clint asked, before turning to their sleeping twins. “Jordan and Liam Barton-Romanoff. You two have an amazing future ahead of you.”
-
Clint had promised himself that he wouldn’t cry the first time that he held their children.
Luckily, he had not told anyone about this promise, because he had broken it.
Even at four weeks old, Jordan and Liam were just so small . He was worried about dropping them, about holding them wrong.
He had worked it up in his head, made it a big problem.
But once he was holding Jordan, all of that went away.
Natasha was sitting on her bed, talking to Liam with a smile on her face.
Jordan, on the other hand, only settled when she was being walked around. So Clint was walking around the hallways, chatting to her.
“You have an amazing family,” he said, alternating watching where he was going and watching Jordan. “And you’ll meet them properly soon. You’ll get to leave here, and go and meet everyone. But you’ll always be home. I want you to remember that home is where you feel safe. Home isn’t a place, not always. Sometimes it’s a person. My home is with you and your brother and your mum. You’ll find a home, and you’ll always feel safe. Until then, I will do whatever I need to do to keep you safe. Okay?”
When Clint looked down, Jordan was fast asleep in his arms.
He returned to Natasha’s room, sitting down next to her on the bed. Both their children were asleep, and looked perfect.