[Avengers: Drabble] "Favoritism" [Clint/Coulson, G]
Title: Favoritism
Author: Ami Ven
Prompt: writerverse phase 21, challenge 01, prompt 16 ‘do a favor’
Word Count: 855
Fandom: Avengers (MCU)
Pairing(s): implied Clint Barton/Phil Coulson, Bucky Barnes/James Rhodes
Character(s): Bucky Barnes, Clint Barton
Setting: part of my MCU Happy Verse
Summary: “Hey, can you do me a quick favor?”
Favoritism
“Hey,” said Clint, “can you do me a quick favor?”
Bucky blinked. “Um, probably.”
“Great. I need you to watch her for, maybe, like an hour.”
“Her?” Bucky repeated. He automatically took the handle of the weird plastic basket Clint handed him, then nearly dropped it in surprise. “Barton! There’s a baby in here!”
“Yes,” said Clint. “Her name’s Frankie, I believe you’ve met.”
“Yes, but-” He accepted the diaper bag just as automatically. “Why do you need me to watch your kid?”
“There is literally no one else,” said Clint, honestly. “I have to fill out some urgent paperwork for an op I did a few months back - don’t give me that look, Barnes, accountants are mean and even SHIELD can’t get out of tax stuff. I’d take her with me, but the pediatrician says we’re not supposed to take her to really public places for another few months. Phil’s got important meetings all day. Natasha and Pepper are in Japan for that thing for Stark Industries. Steve is substitute teaching at the Xavier Institute and Tony went along to subvert the youth - his words, not mine. Bruce, Darcy, Jane and Thor are still in Asgard with the rest of the kids. Phil’s team is still in Cartagena, Sam’s got that big thing at the VA, and you know that Rhodey’s not here. So, you’re it.”
Bucky frowned at the baby. “I was an assassin,” he said, softly.
“So was I ,” said Clint. “You ever kill anyone you weren’t sent after?”
“I-”
“Or who didn’t attack you?”
“No,” Bucky admitted. “But-”
“Look,” said Clint. “You can do this. She’s been fed, she’s been changed, she’ll probably sleep the whole time I’m gone. If she wakes up, you can ask JARVIS to play her some music. Or just talk - she loves listening to Phil read his reports, so don’t feel like you have to entertain her.”
“I-” Bucky said, then, “Okay.”
“Great,” said Clint. “See you in an hour. Bye, Frankie!”
He waved at the still-sleeping baby and left.
“Okay,” repeated Bucky, to himself. “Okay. I can keep Barton and Coulson’s kid alive for an hour.”
He set the baby carrier on the coffee table and sat facing it. He’d seen the kid before, but this was the closest he’d actually gotten to her. Her eyes were closed, so he couldn’t see their color, but she had a fuzz of fine red-gold hair all over her round little head.
Bucky just stared at her for a long while, watching the rise and fall of her tiny chest. Then, suddenly, Frankie opened her eyes.
“Hey,” breathed Bucky.
She blinked at him, her head tilted in the same curious-bird expression Clint often used, and Bucky laughed.
“You really are Barton’s kid, aren’t you?” he said.
Frankie blinked at him, then raised both arms toward him.
“What?” asked Bucky.
She repeated the gesture, adding an insistent full-body wriggle. “Ah!”
“Up?” Bucky said, and she wriggled again. He flexed his metal fingers. “Sorry, kiddo, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Ah!” said Frankie, wiggling harder. “Ah, ah, ah!”
His expression softened. “You probably want out of there, don’t you? I can understand that. Okay, okay…”
The baby seat had a plastic buckle that fastened over Frankie’s chest. As Bucky worked to get it open, the girl reached out to grab his metal index finger with one tiny hand. He froze, worried, but she only gave him the curious head-tilt again and used her other hand to grab at his flesh-and-blood finger.
“Ah,” she said, cheerfully, and he let out a breath.
“Okay.”
It had been a long time since he’d held a baby - about ten years or seventy, depending on how time was counted - but his muscles remembered, cradling little Frankie against his chest. She surveyed his apartment from her new vantage point, eyes wide.
“How ‘bout I give you a tour, baby bird?” he asked, softly. “Your dad says you’ll like it if I talk, and I heard someplace that babies like motion. What do you say?”
“Bah,” said Frankie.
“Okay, then.”
There was more to show off in the apartment than he’d thought. Every so often, the baby would shout another nonsense syllable and Bucky would explain the function and/or origin of whatever was closest to where she was pointing. He especially showed her the things Rhodey had picked out or brought over.
“Jim doesn’t live here,” Bucky told her. “He wants to, but… I guess I’m an old-fashioned boy. I want to do it properly. You understand, right?”
“Ah!” Frankie agreed.
“Right,” he said, and continued the tour.
As they finished with the kitchen, Frankie’s eyes began to droop. She let out a discontented whimper when Bucky tried to put her back into her plastic seat, so he settled onto the couch with the baby on his chest.
“You know,” said Bucky, when Clint came to retrieve his daughter, an hour and a half after he’d left, “I could do you more favors like this, sometime.”
Frankie burbled happily and waved a hand at her father.
“Sure,” said Clint, smiling.
THE END
Current Mood:
Busy
Author: Ami Ven
Prompt: writerverse phase 21, challenge 01, prompt 16 ‘do a favor’
Word Count: 855
Fandom: Avengers (MCU)
Pairing(s): implied Clint Barton/Phil Coulson, Bucky Barnes/James Rhodes
Character(s): Bucky Barnes, Clint Barton
Setting: part of my MCU Happy Verse
Summary: “Hey, can you do me a quick favor?”
Favoritism
“Hey,” said Clint, “can you do me a quick favor?”
Bucky blinked. “Um, probably.”
“Great. I need you to watch her for, maybe, like an hour.”
“Her?” Bucky repeated. He automatically took the handle of the weird plastic basket Clint handed him, then nearly dropped it in surprise. “Barton! There’s a baby in here!”
“Yes,” said Clint. “Her name’s Frankie, I believe you’ve met.”
“Yes, but-” He accepted the diaper bag just as automatically. “Why do you need me to watch your kid?”
“There is literally no one else,” said Clint, honestly. “I have to fill out some urgent paperwork for an op I did a few months back - don’t give me that look, Barnes, accountants are mean and even SHIELD can’t get out of tax stuff. I’d take her with me, but the pediatrician says we’re not supposed to take her to really public places for another few months. Phil’s got important meetings all day. Natasha and Pepper are in Japan for that thing for Stark Industries. Steve is substitute teaching at the Xavier Institute and Tony went along to subvert the youth - his words, not mine. Bruce, Darcy, Jane and Thor are still in Asgard with the rest of the kids. Phil’s team is still in Cartagena, Sam’s got that big thing at the VA, and you know that Rhodey’s not here. So, you’re it.”
Bucky frowned at the baby. “I was an assassin,” he said, softly.
“So was I ,” said Clint. “You ever kill anyone you weren’t sent after?”
“I-”
“Or who didn’t attack you?”
“No,” Bucky admitted. “But-”
“Look,” said Clint. “You can do this. She’s been fed, she’s been changed, she’ll probably sleep the whole time I’m gone. If she wakes up, you can ask JARVIS to play her some music. Or just talk - she loves listening to Phil read his reports, so don’t feel like you have to entertain her.”
“I-” Bucky said, then, “Okay.”
“Great,” said Clint. “See you in an hour. Bye, Frankie!”
He waved at the still-sleeping baby and left.
“Okay,” repeated Bucky, to himself. “Okay. I can keep Barton and Coulson’s kid alive for an hour.”
He set the baby carrier on the coffee table and sat facing it. He’d seen the kid before, but this was the closest he’d actually gotten to her. Her eyes were closed, so he couldn’t see their color, but she had a fuzz of fine red-gold hair all over her round little head.
Bucky just stared at her for a long while, watching the rise and fall of her tiny chest. Then, suddenly, Frankie opened her eyes.
“Hey,” breathed Bucky.
She blinked at him, her head tilted in the same curious-bird expression Clint often used, and Bucky laughed.
“You really are Barton’s kid, aren’t you?” he said.
Frankie blinked at him, then raised both arms toward him.
“What?” asked Bucky.
She repeated the gesture, adding an insistent full-body wriggle. “Ah!”
“Up?” Bucky said, and she wriggled again. He flexed his metal fingers. “Sorry, kiddo, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Ah!” said Frankie, wiggling harder. “Ah, ah, ah!”
His expression softened. “You probably want out of there, don’t you? I can understand that. Okay, okay…”
The baby seat had a plastic buckle that fastened over Frankie’s chest. As Bucky worked to get it open, the girl reached out to grab his metal index finger with one tiny hand. He froze, worried, but she only gave him the curious head-tilt again and used her other hand to grab at his flesh-and-blood finger.
“Ah,” she said, cheerfully, and he let out a breath.
“Okay.”
It had been a long time since he’d held a baby - about ten years or seventy, depending on how time was counted - but his muscles remembered, cradling little Frankie against his chest. She surveyed his apartment from her new vantage point, eyes wide.
“How ‘bout I give you a tour, baby bird?” he asked, softly. “Your dad says you’ll like it if I talk, and I heard someplace that babies like motion. What do you say?”
“Bah,” said Frankie.
“Okay, then.”
There was more to show off in the apartment than he’d thought. Every so often, the baby would shout another nonsense syllable and Bucky would explain the function and/or origin of whatever was closest to where she was pointing. He especially showed her the things Rhodey had picked out or brought over.
“Jim doesn’t live here,” Bucky told her. “He wants to, but… I guess I’m an old-fashioned boy. I want to do it properly. You understand, right?”
“Ah!” Frankie agreed.
“Right,” he said, and continued the tour.
As they finished with the kitchen, Frankie’s eyes began to droop. She let out a discontented whimper when Bucky tried to put her back into her plastic seat, so he settled onto the couch with the baby on his chest.
“You know,” said Bucky, when Clint came to retrieve his daughter, an hour and a half after he’d left, “I could do you more favors like this, sometime.”
Frankie burbled happily and waved a hand at her father.
“Sure,” said Clint, smiling.
THE END
Current Mood:
Busy