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“That is a ridiculous name. She’s going to have a fairytale princess complex or something!” Tony exclaims, quieter than usual because there is only one wall between him and a very young baby. A baby that has the Black Widow as a godmother, and therefore she is very protective.
“You would be the one to know about complexes, Stark.”
“I think it is a lovely name befit for a tiny lady warrior such as herself! She is strong and fights hard.”
“But two middle names?” Tony’s tone hasn’t changed, despite the hard looks everyone is directing at him (except Thor; Thor is nice about vocal volume control issues and therefore his current favorite).
“Yes. Two.” Clint steps out of the nursery where the other Avengers have been watching Phil feed their daughter through a wide visiting window. “Phil picked her first name, I picked her first-middle, and Natasha her second-middle.” Natasha looks smugly at Tony and the billionaire rolls his eyes at her.
“Well, I think it’s a lovely name,” Pepper interjects as she comes into view. She hands over the birth certificate to Clint, who grins maybe a little too brightly over just a piece of paper. “Do they mean something? Or did you just like the names?”
“Uh,” Clint scratches the back of his neck with his free hand. “Phil picked Margaret for Peggy Carter.” His glances over at Steve, who stiffens at the name. He turns away from Clint to look at the baby and Clint’s not sure if it’s a good thing or not. Maybe he should talk to him later. Or maybe Phil should. “Eleanor was the name of my sorta-surrogate mom in the circus. Nat…?”
Natasha shifts forward a little, smiling just faintly at Clint. “Valeriya means ‘to be healthy or strong’. I thought it fitting of a daughter of the Avengers and one who might need a little extra strength on her side.” Clint returns the smile, touched.
“So is she Margaret Eleanor Valeriya Barton?” Tony grimaces at the mouthful. “Or Margaret Eleanor Valeriya Coulson?”
“Coulson.” Clint says, nodding. “I married him and took his last name, after all. Barton is just my public last name.” It’s safer this way, that Clint is only a Coulson at home.
“A hyphenated last name would have been too much,” Phil agrees, stepping out of the nursery and closing the door behind him quietly. “Fourteen syllables is just too cruel.” He winks at Clint, and they’re both sure it isn’t seen by anyone else. Maybe Natasha.
“And twelve isn’t?!” Tony cries out. All of the people in the hall shush him.
The silence stays just long enough for Clint to hear his phone chime. He grins as he pulls it out, leaning into Phil. His husband wraps an arm around him and together they look at the screen. It’s a message from Fury:
Granted.
Phil turns to Clint and raises an eyebrow. He chuckles softly and holds onto Phil tighter. Clint pulls them away from the group without anyone noticing and unlocks the screen, showing Phil the actual conversation. Just above it is a picture of Phil and little Margaret.
Semi-official request for paternity leave for my partner. We’ll fill out the paperwork tonight.
“Clint,” Phil starts, his tone firm.
“Phil, just take a week. Maybe even more. You can go back in for emergencies, or even just work from here. You deserve to be with her for her firsts. I’m here a lot now, but I want her to see both her dads when growing up. Not just one of them.” He gives Phil his best pleading look. “Even Fury thinks you should.”
Phil sighs and frowns, his worries clear on his face. “I just… I want to help build a better world for her to grow up in, Clint. She hasn’t had a very good start.”
“At the beginning? No.” Clint agrees. He cups Phil’s face. “But right now, she has a fucking amazing support system. She’s got the baddest ass to ever bad ass as her father. She has surrogate uncles who are the Avengers. Captain America is one of her godfathers. She is going to grow up so protected and so loved.”
“She has an amazingly handsome, protective, and loyal dad, too.” Phil tips his head forward to bump their foreheads together. His hands circle Clint’s waist and they just grin at each other, even when Tony makes gagging noises at them. (He’s smiling after he does it, so clearly he’s happy for them, despite being immature in an attempt to drag their attention back to him. He’s dragged away when it doesn’t work. Not that he protests.)
“Who can sing lullabies.” Clint adds. Phil nudges their noses together before pulling back to tug Clint back into the nursery.
“Prove your prowess.” Phil challenges lightly as they stand next to the covered bassinet and look through the plastic covering the baby’s bed.
Clint steps behind Phil and wraps his arms around Phil’s waist and places his head next to Phil’s. Together, without consciously thinking about it, they weave their fingers together. Their wedding bands click lightly together in the silence. He begins to hum and Phil smiles at the song before he starts to sing. “I have never loved someone the way I love you, I have never seen a smile like yours...”
...And if you grow up to be king or clown or pauper
I will say you are my favorite one in town
I have never held a hand so soft and sacred
When I hear your laugh I know heaven’s key
And when I grow to be a poppy in the graveyard
I will send you all my love upon the breeze
And if the breeze won’t blow your way, I will be the sun
And if the sun won’t shine your way, I will be the rain
And if the rain won’t wash away all your aches and pains
I will find some other way to tell you you’re okay.
You’re okay...