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Strong bonds and broken hearts
One day, early in the morning, Clint wakes up because someone much smaller than him climbs into his bed. It’s not Lucky - the dog is snoring and lies heavily on his feet, so it is probably one of the younger kids. Whoever it is shuffles under the covers in search for some warmth. Half awake, Clint is aware that a small hand keeps stroking his arm. Still a little disoriented, he blinks awake to find Bruce in his personal space.
“Hey, are you okay?” he asks, and it comes out a little slurred but no less concerned.
Nightmares are a pretty common occurrence in their household.
Most nights, one or more of them will wake up with eyes wide in fear, sometimes even crying or screaming.
As young as they are, all of these kids have seen and lived through horrible things. They have seen more than any kid should have, but they try not to let it affect their days. At night when they’re sleeping, there isn’t much they can do.
Especially the younger kids often seek out comfort from the others. For a long time, they don’t let any adults close to them, and despite the progress they’ve made, it is still very much a touchy topic.
Natasha often ends up with Clint. She wakes up shaking and cold as ice several times a week, muttering in russian. He doesn’t always understand everything - most of what he learned in the circus from other carneys were insults and profanity, which is not helpful here - but it’s enough to guess. He understands “No!” and “Please stop!” just fine, and the thought of what those dreams might be about is enough to make him want to vomit.
Every time she wakes up, finding herself safe and with someone willing to hold her through the night, her little body sags in relief, and she presses close to Clint. He will end up talking to her, as calm and soothing as he remembers secretly wishing someone would have done for him in the last few years, and strokes her hair until Nat is able to fall back asleep.
Bruce is stealthy - if he doesn’t want to be noticed, he is nearly invisible and silent as a shadow. Years of hiding from his father have taught him well - it is something that Clint is painfully familiar with.
Bruce more or less hides himself away until he decides he wants company or a hug, which is big for him. If he doesn’t want to, it would be hard to notice him in a room. He has had years of practise, after all. To reach out, to be able to seek and accept company and physical contact from others is such a progress for him, and it makes everyone happy - most of all himself.
Bruce’s favourite people to seek out for comfort are either Tony, who he has grown incredibly close to, or Clint, who is equally protective of him. As the two oldest kids, it is kind of expected for them to be sought out the most, but they happily fill that role. And not just in case of nightmares.
The other day, when the kids went to the park, a group of other kids had started to bully Bruce for reading a book, calling him names and starting to kick at him. The saddest thing about all of this was that Bruce is perfectly capable of handling the violence. The part that really upset him though, was when they started ripping pages out of his book.
This particular book had been a gift from Phil, because he’d noticed what kind of stories Bruce likes and had gotten it for him. Just because - no other reason than thinking he would like it. It means the world to the little boy.
Just a few moments after all of it started, Clint was seen stomping over with huge steps, focusing his sharp eyes on the group of boys - around his own age, maybe a bit younger - who were laughing and turning the pages of Bruce’s beloved book into confetti while Bruce could do nothing but watch in pain and sadness, unable to hide his tears.
Clint saw red.
“Who the fuck made Bruce cry?!” he’d hollered, making himself look bigger than the scrawny 14-year old he was. Then he’d simply punched the kid who laughed hardest in the face - no one laughed after that. By that time though, it had been too late for a retreat on the bullies part.
Tony had heard everything and was on his way over to rip those kids a new one, just as Clint had started a minute before.
It had taken both Thor and Phil, and a lot of talking to get them to back off. Given the constant state of their friends, that had been surprisingly difficult, but they did. If only to prevent serious injuries - or rather, more serious injuries.
14 or not, Clint Barton knows how to pack a punch.
They made sure to make the bullies apologize to Bruce - it’s the least they could do.
Looking back on it, it is probably a good thing that Lucky had been playing fetch with Nat and Steve at the time, or he probably would have tried to protect Clint and Tony. Who knows what kind of trouble they’d have been in then.
“We don’t condone violence. But I know you were trying to do the right thing and we appreciate that.” Phil tells them later, feeling just a little bit like a hypocrite. He never had patience for bullies, and part of him is of the opinion that those little bastards had it coming - don’t fuck with Clint Bartons chosen family. Phil knows that, from years of being included in said family.
Pretty similar is the case with Tony, he has learned by now, and is kind of impressed that this has manifested itself so early.
Tony may be somewhat paranoid, eccentric and rude, but once he chooses a person, they can be sure of his unconditional love and loyalty. Who would have thought that this group has gotten quite as big as it did in the last few years.
Now as a kid, Tony may be distrusting and if he wants to be, difficult to no end, but overall, he is a lot less abrasive than his adult self can be.
On the other hand, much like his adult self, if you want him happy and occupied for a few hours, give him something to build, take apart or something scientific of interest.
But Tony, too, has trouble sleeping - more specifically, falling asleep in the first place. Tony’s brain is always active, always high-strung and on the search for stimulation. Just shutting off and doing nothing is nearly impossible for him.
In order to fall asleep, he needs to talk to someone, listen to music, do calculus in his head, anything. Whatever he can find to distract himself until he is too tired to keep track anymore.
One night, shortly after he and four of his teammates got turned into children, he spends a few hours tossing, turning and muttering formulas to himself. Eventually, he gets out of bed with a frustrated sigh, wandering through the apartment in an attempt to get rid of some of his pent up energy, hoping to be able to sleep eventually. Tony is exhausted, but his mind is still running wild.
The kids have access to the respective apartments, but to make things easier for everyone, they sleep in one of the guest suites. There are plenty of rooms, but they’re still close together - it’s a safety measure, and a well needed one, with a bunch like them.
Tony is quiet, long practised from many years of sneaking out of bed and doing whatever he can to keep himself occupied until he physically can’t stay awake for any longer.
Eventually, he is bound to run into someone. Literally running into someone, in this case.
To be fair, it is half dark in the room, he is distracted and Clint is sitting on the floor without saying a word. Tony stumbles and almost trips over the older boy.
“Oh, hi.”
“Hey.” Clint simply scoots over to make some space, brushing away a small pile of wood shavings in the process. He’s holding a knife in one hand (god knows where he pulled that from again) and a small block of wood is in his lap. It looks lumpy and uneven, but at second glance, Tony can recognize it as something that’s vaguely dog shaped.
“Can’t sleep?”
“Nope. You?”
Clint shakes his head, and goes back to carving the wood. It is clear that he knows what he is doing, and Tony finds himself watching his movements, watching the wood shavings fall off and reveal a shape that gets more and more clear over time.
After a while, he starts talking. They had watched “Star Wars” earlier that night, and everyone enjoyed the movie. Now, Tony is talking about it, jammering on and on, just so he’s got something to do. After a while, he is simply retelling the story, faintly aware that Clint hums in agreement every now and then as if this was an actual conversation, but he doesn’t mind that.
He is happy to have the company, and after a while, he actually nods off, head lolling against the older boy's shoulder. Clint looks over when the dark brown hair tickles him, and simply goes back to carving out his dog. Lucky is dozing on his other side, and despite being tense and exhausted, Clint can’t help but to smile a bit. He runs a hand through the thick fur in order to calm himself, focusing on the calm and even breathing from both Lucky and the younger kid sleeping on his shoulder.
After that night, when Tony discovers that there isn’t anyone going to make fun of him for his habits, or for seeking out company, he grows a little more relaxed.
So when he jolts awake from a nightmare later that week, he doesn’t hesitate to seek out comfort. He is out of bed quicker than his brain can catch up, and then he is out the door and creeping into the room next door, quietly waking Clint to ask if he can stay for the night. Of course, he says yes. Or, at least this is how he interprets the low hum and the fact that he lifts the cover on one corner.
Steve is, for most of the time, either cold or sick. The wonders of modern medicine sure help him, but it is a fact that he is more skin and bones than anything else, and so he tends to freeze at night, no matter what.
Oftentimes, he’ll seek out warmth from anyone who is willing to share a bed or a couch with him and really, it is no bother - Steve hardly takes up any space, especially when he clings like a little monkey to get some body heat. No one minds, really, so he’ll creep under the blankets with anyone who is close.
More often than not, he ends up in Cint’s room then, because the older boy is protective of all of them and always willing to be there for anyone who needs it.
Sometimes, the two of them will end up talking in sign language. Steve’s hearing isn’t the best - too many ear infections - and Cint himself is hard of hearing due to unfortunate events that he refuses to discuss at this time. It’s gotten a bit better since he was little, but as they know now, it’ll give him more trouble later in life.
The two of them tend to have entire conversations over the distance of a room or shuffled into a corner, depending on what they’re up to that day. It might just add to the assumption that they are brothers - many strangers come to that conclusion when they walk Lucky in the park or are out and about with some of the others. They never bother to correct the people who think this. For one, neither of them is surprised to get confused for siblings. They’re close, and to add to that, both of them are blond, blue eyed and scrawny. It is also kind of fun, so they just go along with it. So far, no stranger had reason to catch on to the truth and they have several bets going on how long they can keep it up.
Clint himself swings widely between sleeping like a stone and either not at all or like absolute shit - there really is no inbetween.
He has learned early on to get sleep whenever he can, just as much as getting food or anything else, really, because who knows when he’ll be able to get more. Old habits die hard.
But as much as he is used to sleeping heavily whenever possible, his subconsciousness tends to disagree often enough. Sometimes, he just can’t sleep. Too many thoughts keep him awake, too many anxious what if’s and too much energy pent up in him.
At least, his insomnia hadn’t been that bad in the circus - there he was easily able to work and train himself into exhaustion, escaping his brain just for a few hours. It’s one reason why he actively likes to sleep.
Not so much when the nightmares come, though. They’re vivid and terrifying, which is enough to send him shaking for hours sometimes. But the worst part is, a lot of them are memories. Nightmares, as hard to deal with as they are, are just that. But reliving memories? He’s always hated that because he has no control then.
Whenever he can, Clint hides, effectively drowning out any sounds that might escape him. It is a long standing habit, essential to survival. Breaking down is one thing when you can do it hidden away and in near-silence, but another to be asleep and unable to quiet down the crying.
Sound means being found means pain means more horrible memories to scream about at night - it is a never ending circle.
Some nights, he wakes up drenched in sweat and in complete silence. The feeling of hands on his body is lingering then, and it is revolting. Luckily, here he has a bathroom nearby - back at Carson’s, he’d had to stumble out the trailer door and make it to some bushes before losing whatever food he’d managed to get that day.
Rinse and repeat the issue about making a sound while in obvious distress.
Here, in the tower, he doesn’t have to fear getting hurt by anyone. It takes a while for him to actually believe that - probably longer than anyone involved would have liked, but he can see how the younger kids interact with Phil, with Thor and even Pepper when she’s there. It took all of them time to trust, but by the time Clint is willingly sitting next to them, some of the other kids are already happy to seek out hugs from them.
Clint is happy for them, he really is - but part of him wishes he could trust that far, too.
He doesn’t admit it out loud to anyone - what for? It would only either upset or worry people. Or worse, make anyone angry - despite seeing evidence to the contrary every single day, he is terrified of things changing again.
Clint isn’t used to good things lasting long. Eventually, everything will turn again,. No matter how painful it is, in any way possible, not knowing when someone will snap - or what will cause it - drives him insane. Because as bad as things have gotten for him throughout his short life, Clint is always coping better when he knows what to expect. Uncertainty and the faint hope of the good moments being real, only to be ripped away eventually hurts a lot more.
But even after many weeks, none of the adults here have ever raised their voice or laid a hand on them. They are kind and supportive in any way imaginable, even when they have good reason to be mad, and Clint doesn’t know what to do.
He’d tried acting out - it was only met with firm but kind conversations, which is completely foreigen to him. It just doesn’t work that way - life doesn’t work like that.
Clint had been terrified that night, lying awake with both hands tightly clamped over his mouth until he couldn’t take it anymore.
The really bad nights are when he locks himself in the bathroom.
Luckily though, these days, there is a lot of company here, and if he is honest with himself, helping the younger kids calm down, being able to hold another human being close, to protect and be loved in response - it helps a lot.
Clint isn’t sure if the other kids know just how much they really help him, but he’s not about to tell them this. He simply soaks up the company like a sponge, hoping that things will stay that way at least for a bit.
“Can you help me make breakfast?” Bruce asks Clint that one morning, and he looks up at the older boy with huge brown eyes and clear excitement. Clint blinks - this isn’t what he expected, but he nods slowly.
“Yeah sure.” He interrupts himself with a jaw-cracking yawn. “What time is it?”
“Uuhh, about 4?”
Goddammit.
“Why so early?” Clint pleads, burrowing deeper into the pillows because he really isn’t up for much yet.
“I couldn’t sleep.” Bruce confesses silently, and snuggles closer. Clint puts an arm around him.
“Nightmare?”
“Hm-hm.” it seems like he doesn’t want to talk about it, but physical contact always seems to help with that. But then Bruce says,
“It was about my dad. He… is not a nice person. Then I thought, I’m here now, with all of you, and Thor and Phil… Maybe they’ll like it when we make them breakfast?”
“I’m sure they would - in a few hours… Let’s get some more sleep and we’ll wake the others? Maybe they’ll help.”
“Okay.” he seems satisfied with that and snuggles closer. “Later…”
And with that, he falls back asleep.
Just like promised, Clint helps him wake up the other kids a few hours later, which has varying degrees of success. They are met with pitiful groans (Tony), a tired, blank stare and “Okay.” (Steve) as well as pure excitement (Nat).
Together, Clint figures, the five of them in their respective states together might count as one functioning human being.
It doesn’t take too long for all of them to become somewhat awake though. Bruce’s idea to make breakfast for Thor and Phil, as a little surprise and “thank you” is met with happy agreement.
Miraculously, they manage to prepare toast, waffles, eggs, pancakes, bacon and most importantly, coffee, without any major incidents. Sure, the waffles are slightly lopsided and some pancakes are a bit more crispy than intended, but it’s nothing that wouldn’t happen on any other day, too. It looks good.
By the time Phil, still in his pyjamas, shuffles into the kitchen, the coffee is done. He looks like he rolled straight out of bed and he sniffs the air with a slight smile.
“Hmm, coffee.” Then, after a look around the kitchen, it widens.
“Good morning - it smells really good in here, you guys, thank you.”
“Good morning, Phil!”
“We wanted to surprise you!”
The voices of various children greet him, and it makes his heart melt. Up until recently, kids were completely out of the question for Phil - his life as a SHIELD Agent and Avengers handler just isn’t cut out for it. In the past few weeks though, since he spent a majority of his time taking care of these kids, he isn’t so sure about that anymore.
He’d actually said as much to Thor the other night, over a beer after the kids all went to bed. Phil isn’t sure what to make of it that the God of Thunder didn’t seem surprised in the slightest - he just smiled at him with a knowing look.
Not for the first time, not nearly, Phil is convinced that Thor knows a lot more, sees a lot more than he usually lets on.
Careful not to think those thoughts too far, Phil attempts to shove those feelings away. It’s no use. His job is still his job, and the only reason he even gets to experience something like parenthood, is due to the fact that his team got magically turned into kids in the first place and it won’t last forever. Sooner or later, things will be back to normal again.
Besides, he isn’t in a romantic relationship with anyone. “Anyone” ideally being a certain archer, who he’d grown close to in the last few years. If Phil isn’t entirely mistaken, that feeling might even be mutual, but with the way things are right now, there is nothing to be done about it.
Once the spell is reversed and everyone is back to being an adult, sure, he’ll grow a spine and talk to Clint about his feelings, but for now, there is a group of kids covered in eggs and flour in the kitchen, presenting him a breakfast they prepared in a team effort.
They are almost done setting the table when Thor walks into the room, his hair still slightly damp from a shower but otherwise dressed just as comfortable as everyone else. He is greeted pretty much the same like Phil earlier, before he can even and he, too, is pleasantly surprised.
Part of him misses how things were before the spell, but he, too, very much enjoys the time with the kids and is determined to give them the happiest time possible and also make them feel safe, which is something that most of them were lacking before.
The morning would have been cozy and mostly uneventful, but things rarely ever go to plan in this house.
It’s an accident, and it happens faster than anyone could react.
On his way to the table, Bruce drops the filled coffee mug. This is the same mug that he’s seen Phil use as often as possible. It’s a simple white mug with a black handle - nothing special so far, but on the side, there is the red, blue and white shield with the star in the middle. It’s a mug, and it’s a favourite, which is why Bruce filled it with the intent of giving Phil his morning coffee in the favourite mug, because that’s what people like to do, right?
Only it slips in his small hands and a second later, it falls to the floor in what feels like slow-motion while he can do nothing but watch in horror. Then it shatters on the tiles and spills scalding hot coffee everywhere.
Bruce freezes on the spot, eyes huge with fear and he stops breathing. The room is buzzing with activity now, but he’s got tunnel vision and can’t make out any words. He flinches when someone touches him, expecting to be hit or yelled at - none of that happens.
The hands on his shoulders are warm and gentle, and so is the voice speaking to him. Thor, he realizes.
“Bruce? Can you hear me?”
He blinks, and nods, slowly. Bruce is still shaking, doesn’t know what to expect.
“Are you hurt?”
It takes him a moment to process that question, but he is pretty sure the answer is “no” - he is shaken up, but he’s not in any pain. He shakes his head.
“Okay, that’s good.” Thor keeps stroking his thumb over the boy’s arm in a soothing, comforting motion. He is very much still concerned, but with time and gentle touch, he manages to get him safely out of the kitchen.
“I’m sorry.” Bruce mumbles, not looking at anyone - his eyes are locked on the floor.
“It’s alright, little one. It was an accident. But I do not wish you or anyone else to hurt themselves, this is the only reason we brought you out of the room.”
There are shards of ceramic and hot coffee spilt all over the floor, so this makes sense. Still, Bruce is caught up in his panic response, which is still stronger than the new knowledge that life in the tower isn’t like it was before. After a little while, he nods again and reaches out to Thor for a hug, which he happily gives him.
Hugging Thor is always great - it’s like being embraced by a warm giant, which is pretty much accurate. Even as adults, most Avengers look tiny next to him, and they do even more so in their current state.
Once the kitchen is clean and safe to enter again, Bruce grows nervous again. His eyes wander over to where the mug broke earlier, and he can feel his heart beat faster in fear. But the floor is clean, dry and spotless, there is no sign of the mug anywhere, and Phil, who was the one who cleaned it all up, doesn’t look angry, either.
Bruce looks up at him, his eyes huge and sad as he apologizes for the mess and breaking the mug. Phil gets down to his eye level, then tells him,
“It’s alright, Bruce, it was an accident. I’m glad you didn’t get hurt - that was all I was worried about.” With a small smile, he adds.
“Things can be replaced. Please believe me, no one is mad. It’s all good.”
And finally, he believes it.
Hugging Phil feels different than Thor, or any of the kids, but he is just as warm and just as safe. Breathing is a little easier now, and after a while, the seven of them have breakfast like it was any other day.
There are tales and laughter, spilled drinks and crumbs everywhere. Lucky is shuffling around under and around the table, ignoring his own half empty food bowl in the corner in favor of the bits and pieces that fall off of the plates. That dog is spoiled and happy as always, and they wouldn't want it any other way
It looks like is going to be a good day, after all.
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Prompt: 13 - Shattered mug