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It had been a few months since Clint had returned home after the battle against Ultron. Returning to the normalcy he had built wasn’t always easy when he had been gone from home. Even so, he was happy to be surrounded by his wife, Laura, and their three beautiful children. Sometimes he wasn't certain how he gotten so lucky despite the mistakes of his past.
It was Sunday when he woke to the smell of dark roast coffee brewing in the kitchen. Lila was jumping on the bed and tugging on his hand saying, “Get up, daddy.” His eyes slowly opened then he smiled at his little princess. When he walked into the kitchen, Clint was still rubbing dreams of the circus from his eyes. In the kitchen, Laura stood with their baby, Nathaniel, at her hip. She smiled and Clint smiled back, his eyes crinkling. “Good morning, beautiful,” he said before pressing a kiss to her lips then a kiss to the baby’s forehead.
Cooper sat at the dining room table asking if they could have pancakes. “Please, dad,” Lila and Cooper chimed in unison. Clint ruffled his son’s hair. “I think I can whip something up,” he replied. Laura poured him a cup of coffee. She grinned and asked, “Or how about your signature French Toast, hot shot?” The two older kids nodded in agreement and even Nathaniel giggled.
From a bottom drawer, Clint pulled out an apron that had the words “Happy Chef” embroidered on the front. It had been a gift for Father’s Day three years before. It was a Father’s Day he had been gone for and they had ended up celebrating in late August.
“Now who’s gonna help me?” He asked. Both Lila and Cooper’s hands shot up. “OK, you get me the eggs and vanilla,” he pointed at Lila. “An’ you can get me the cinnamon and flour,” he delegated to his eldest son. All the while, Laura sat at the table, feeding her youngest a warm bottle of milk.
Clint cut thick slices of French bread. He set out a mixing bowl on the counter. He then held Lila up so she could crack the eggs over the bowl. “You’re a natural,” he said. Next, he added just a little bit of vanilla. “C’mon an’ add the flour, son.”
Cooper held a measuring cup stacked full of flour, “Like this, dad?” Clint nodded, “Just make sure you level it out. Like so--” He motioned with his hand as he scraped off the excess flour back into the bag before allowing his son to dump the flour into the mixing bowl. After sprinkling a dash of cinnamon, Clint stirred the mixture. He dipped each slice of bread, letting them soak just the right amount.
“Set the table,” he said. Clint readied a pan with oil as he dipped the bread into the pan. It sizzled. Lila and Cooper set out napkins, forks, and knives. Lila took out the syrup from the pantry before setting it on the table. Cooper grabbed a few glasses from the cupboard. What was French Toast without milk? As he poured the milk, a little dribbled to the floor. “I’ll get it,” Clint reassured his wife. He didn’t want her having to clean up too much now that he was home. “You do enough of that when I’m gone,” he would argue.
He began to serve the French Toast on plates as Lila took them to the table. “Thank you, sweetheart,” Clint said. Once everyone was served, Clint migrated back to the dining room table. He kissed the side of Laura’s head before taking his seat next to her.
“Dig in,” Clint said but he didn’t need to say those words because Cooper and Lila were already fighting over who got the syrup first. Clint drowned his slices in syrup and he cut pieces too big for his mouth. Clint looked over at his daughter who had just taken a sip of her milk. “You got a little mustache there, princess.” The little girl laughed.
“And you’ve got a little something here--” Laura said before wiping syrup off Clint’s face with her napkin. She then pecked the corner of his lips.
“Ew!” The eldest Barton children said in unison while Laura and Clint laughed.
“Behave or Auntie Nat ain’t gonna come make s’mores with us,” Clint teased. Lila and Cooper laughed under their breaths but nodded.
Laura placed her hand over Clint’s and said, “It’s good to have you home.”