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“You two should get together. You’d have cute children,” Peggy said suddenly over lunch one Sunday afternoon.
Clint choked on a roast potato. Sharon reached over and thumped him on the back, grinning.
“Nice try, Aunt Peggy, but no thanks. He’s really not my type.”
“Very good-looking, though, don’t you think?” Peggy pressed.
“Looks aren’t everything, Aunt Peggy,” Sharon said diplomatically.
“Ha, don’t I know it. Do I have any chance of another generation of Carters from you, young lady?”
“Maybe one day. When I find the right partner to have them with. Which is definitely not Clint,” Sharon said firmly.
“Thank God you were there to deflect her,” Clint said to Sharon as they left later on, “because if you’d left it to me, she’d have us engaged by now. Doesn’t she already have quite a few grandkids?”
“And great-grandkids, but she takes it as her divine right to improve the gene pool by trying to matchmake up anyone she considers worthy and demanding they produce progeny. Take it as a compliment,” Sharon nudged Clint, laughing. “She’s trying to bring you into the family AND use you as stud stock!”
He laughed, slinging his arm around Sharon’s shoulders to give her a side-hug. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but oh hell no. You’re beautiful and badass, but no.”
“Exactly!” she agreed, hugging him back briefly as they reached their cars. “See you next Sunday? Don’t forget it’s Aunt Peggy’s birthday.”
“I won’t,” Clint promised.
“You know the rules, right?”
“No guns, knives or booze,” Clint recited with a sigh, rolling his eyes. “Which kind of leaves a very, very short list of things Peggy might actually like.”
He’d considered asking the STRIKE team to pose for glamour-type photos, but then remembered Rumlow and his Peggy-issues and decided against it. So he bought her a Hot Firefighters calendar instead.
Peggy cackled as she opened the package. “Very good, darling boy. You know just what I like. Grade A beef.” Flipping through the pages, she smirked. “I shall hang this up opposite my bed.”
“I really don’t want to know, Aunt Peggy,” Clint grinned and bent to kiss her cheek. “Aren’t you having a party?” He seemed to be the only one present. “Where’s Sharon?”
“Coming later with the others. I decided I wanted to have lunch with just my two favourites.”
“Sharon is your favourite.” He was absurdly flattered that she seemed to consider him as such too, couldn’t keep the foolish grin off his face.
“Whatever gave you that idea? She’s far too uptight. Keeps confiscating my guns and telling me I’m too old for all this spying nonsense. As if I haven’t taught her everything she knows.” Peggy harrumphed indignantly. “She’s a chip off the old block, but I wouldn’t call her my favourite by any means.”
Clint was beginning to feel entirely mistrustful of the determined glint in Peggy’s eye. He was trying frantically to think of a means of escape when he heard another car on the driveway.
“So who’s coming to lunch?” he asked, drifting over towards the window and peering out, but the car had gone around the corner of the house and he couldn’t see the occupant.
“My granddaughter Laura. Who’s not an agent or anything like it,” there was still pride in Peggy’s voice. “She’s a legal secretary. Smart girl, didn’t want anything to do with the shenanigans of SHIELD.”
“She sounds nice,” Clint said diplomatically, thinking privately that she sounded dull as dishwater.
“Laura’s driven all the way from Atlanta to see me, Clint, be nice,” Peggy said warningly.
“If she’s willing to do that for you, Aunt Peggy, she deserves all the respect I can give,” he said honestly.
“Good boy,” Peggy gave him an approving smile as the door opened and a small force of nature entered.
“Nanna!”
It wouldn’t be too hard to make nice at all, Clint reflected, because Laura was certainly easy on the eyes, a small, slight brunette with beautiful slender legs, laughing dark eyes and an absolutely gorgeous smile. She almost danced across the room to where Peggy sat and stooped to envelop her in a tight hug.
“It’s so good to see you!”
“You too, darling girl,” Peggy hugged her back. “This is…” she was gesturing towards Clint standing silently by the window, but Laura was already pressing something into her hands.
“Open it, Nanna!”
Peggy smiled fondly, tugging on the ribbon tied in a beautifully artistic bow around the box. “Thank you, dear – oh, how lovely. A Glock!”
“Unregistered and untraceable, just how you like them, Nanna,” Laura kissed her offered cheek. “Took it off some twit who tried to mug me walking home from work last week.”
Clint’s mouth dropped open. “But what about the rules?” he said unthinkingly.
“What rules?” Peggy and Laura both turned to look at him, each raising an eyebrow in identically inquiring looks so penetrating he instinctively winced back.
“Er, I was told, no guns, knives or booze…”
“Interfering little busybodies,” Peggy said not at all under her breath, and Laura laughed, brown eyes twinkling.
“She’ll find them anyway. At least this way I know she won’t go mugging any drug dealers unarmed herself to get her supply. And really, do you know anyone who handles a gun better than my grandmother?”
“Only me,” Clint admitted.
Peggy chuckled. “He’s a natural, Laura. A delight. He’s going to teach me archery, too.”
A wide grin spread across Laura’s face. “Oh, I’m in for this. What did you say your name was, again?”
“Clint,” he said helplessly. “Clint Barton.”
She placed a small, strong hand into his. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Clint Barton.”
I think I’m in love…