AHHHHHHHHHHHHH! I just saw the Captain America: Civil War trailer! Ohmigoshohmigoshohmigosh! It looks sooooooo good! I can not wait! :D :D :D

I just had to mention that. I couldn't help myself. It looks like it's going to be freakin' AWESOME! Anyway, about this story. It does contain spoilers for Age of Ultron. So *Spoiler Alert*

Steve didn't mean to eavesdrop. But it was an unavoidable accident. He couldn't control what his serum-enhanced hearing picked up. And with the hustle and bustle of the New York nightlife replaced with cricket song and tree leaves, there wasn't much else for him to listen to. Arms buried to the elbows in a sink full of dishes he'd insisted on washing as payment for the delicious dinner, he listened as Clint and his wife readied their children for bed. Feet raced across the boards above him, some steps heavier than others. The laughter and giggles drifted through the house, warming the rooms with honey gold delight as the Barton family chased each other around the upstairs.

He heard when the game ended, heard Clint's chuckle as he carried his kids, one under each arm, into their bedroom. The old mattress springs squeaked merrily as its owners settled on it for a bedtime story. And Steve tried to tell himself that he wasn't keeping the clattering and the splashing to a minimum because he wanted to hear the story too.

"Well, what'll it be tonight?" Clint inquired.

"Budapest!" Lila shouted excitedly.

"I told you that one a few days ago," Laura reminded.

"But Aunt Natasha's here," she pouted. "So we should hear one about her."

"How about The Battle for Manhattan?" suggested Francis.

"Oh, you don't want to hear that one," Clint pretended to scoff.

"Yeah-huh," Francis returned.

"No, you've heard that one a thousand times. You don't want to hear it again," Clint protested, humor in his voice.

"Yes, we do! We do! We do! We do!" Lila insisted forcefully.

"Nah. Why don't I tell you about the time I broke into the house of the Chinese president?" Clint offered.

"New York. New York. New York," chanted Francis.

"New York. New York. New York," repeated Lila.

"If you're sure..." Clint drew out the pause.

"Yes," Francis asserted.

"You're one hundred percent sure this is the story you want to hear?"

"Yes," Lila agreed.

"Both of you?" Clint queried with a grin.

"Yes!" the two chimed emphatically.

"Okay, okay. The Battle for Manhattan it is." Clint cleared his throat dramatically. "Three years ago, back when Daddy was still working for Director Fury, an alien decided he wanted to take over the Earth. So he used a portal to travel to here. And that alien's name was-"

"Loki," Lila injected.

"Yes, Loki," Clint accepted. "Now Loki was an arrogant, cocky son of a-"

"Clint," Laura warned.

"Gun," Clint finished. "He was an arrogant, cocky son of a gun. He thought he could just waltz right in here, with his big, bad alien army and turn all the humans into his slaves. But there was one thing standing in his way."

"The Avengers," Francis breathed in awe.

"Exactly," Clint continued. "The Avengers were a team of superheroes who were going to protect the Earth. When Loki opened a portal into outer space right above New York city, the Avengers went to stop him. They fought off his army and then they kicked Loki's pathetic-"

Laura coughed loudly.

"All the way back to Asgard," Clint finished, satisfied.

Steve paused right before setting a plate in the drainer, water running down his wrists as he contemplated the cleansed version of events. There was no recounting of the long hours spent smashing Chitauri skulls, hearing the bones snap and feeling the black blood spurt out to coat face and uniform. No talk of the smoke and the ash and the fire and the screams of innocents. The fact that Clint had been mind-controlled wasn't even mentioned. Steve didn't blame Barton. Rather, he commended him. Such things were not to be told to children. Yet, as unpleasant and painful as those subjects were, they were still a part of the superhero life. A part of Steve's life. The plate slipped from limp fingers as he came to the conclusion that there was no place for family in a life of violence. Steve's life. Returning to his chore with a vengeance, he furiously scrubbed the casserole dish.

"The Avengers are awesome," Francis stated confidently.

"All right, the story's over. It's time for bed," Laura commented.

"You heard her. Bedtime," Clint confirmed. "Good night, Francis. Good night, Lila."

"I love you, Daddy," Lila pronounced sweetly.

Steve's fingers suddenly crushed the mason jar he was about to wash. "Damn," he whispered angrily.

As Steve tugged shards of glass from his palm, releasing blood to splash into the fluffy soap suds, Clint kissed his daughter's forehead. "I love you too, sweetheart."

"Sweet dreams," Laura wished, while scabs formed on the shallow cuts in Steve's hands.

The bedroom light switch was clicked off and Steve quickly drained the soiled water. As two sets of feet descended the staircase, he gathered all the pieces of the cup and tossed them in the garbage can. While waiting for the sink to empty, he grabbed the dish towel from where it was hanging on the oven handle and proceeded to dry the clean dishes, stacking them in neat piles on the counter.

"The kids are in bed," Clint announced as he entered the living room, an arm around Laura's shoulders.

"Let the partying begin," Tony cheered.

"I don't know about any parties," Bruce muttered. "I think I've had enough excitement for one day."

"I agree with Bruce," Laura yawned. "I'm ready for bed."

"Speaking of which, where are we all sleeping?" Natasha queried.

Laura opened her mouth but it was Clint who answered. "I was thinking you could sleep in the kid's room. They're both in Francis' bed so you can have Lila's. Banner and Stark can share the guest room and Cap gets the couch."

"Whoa, getting a little personal, aren't we?" Tony teased, sidling up to Bruce. "You don't snore, do you?"

"I'm not sure I'm comfortable with having to share bed space with Tony." Bruce edged away from the advancing scientist.

Natasha perked up. "Tony and I could switch places."

Bruce froze, Laura smiled, Clint frowned and Tony coughed to fill the awkward silence. Glancing over his shoulder to see the terrified expression on Bruce's face, Steve decided to come to his rescue.

"You know, I don't mind sleeping on the floor. Tony can have the couch," he offered.

Bruce slouched in relief. Natasha crossed her arms and glared at Steve.

"Or Bruce could have the couch and I could have the bed," Tony suggested, though everyone ignored his comment.

"Oh no, I couldn't let you sleep on the floor," Laura protested, taking a small step toward Steve.

"Trust me, ma'am, I've slept on worse." Steve smiled reassuringly. "And I don't need much sleep anyway."

"It's true," Tony interjected. "He only sleeps for two hours and spends the rest of the night punching stuff." He gave an innocent shrug in reply to Steve's glare.

Bruce clapped his hands together once. "I guess it's settled then."

Frustrated, Natasha blew a stray hair off her forehead with a forceful puff of air from between pursed lips.

"Good night, everyone," Bruce excused himself and hurried up the steps.

"Tony, if you'll come with me, I'll show you where the linens are," Laura invited, heading in the same direction as Banner.

With a final hostile glance in Steve's direction, Natasha stomped up the stairs behind Tony.

"If you want any midnight snacks or anything, help yourself." Clint gestured to the kitchen before turning toward the staircase.

"Hey, Clint," Steve called quietly.

The archer turned back around. "Yeah?"

"Sorry, I broke one of your dishes," Steve confessed.

"Really? Which one?" Clint inquired, casually.

"One of the glass cups," Steve told him.

"The ones we were drinking out of tonight?" Clint clarified.

Steve nodded.

Clint flapped a hand through the air lazily. "Don't worry about it. It was just a mason jar. Those things are super cheap and easily replaceable." He leaned in conspiratorially. "When you have kids, you quickly learn you can't have nice things. Besides," he shrugged. "The only thing those cups are good for is sweet tea." With a quick smile, he added, "Well, I'm going to go catch a few winks of sleep before we save the world tomorrow."

"This mission," Steve started, once again stopping Clint's progress toward bed. "It's going to be dangerous."

"It always is," Clint dismissed.

"Some of us might not make it," Steve warned.

"It's a possibility," Clint conceded.

"You're sure you want to go tomorrow?" Steve questioned. "You don't have to."

Clint raised a confused eyebrow. "What are you talking about? Of course I have to go. Once an Avenger, always an Avenger. Or something like that anyway."

"I'm serious," Steve asserted. "No one's going to think any less of you."

"What's going on?" Clint rested his knuckles on his hips. "Why are you suddenly offering me a choice?"

Steve looked guilty.

"Yeah, here's a free tip. You need to work on your subtlety," Clint advised. "Now, why are you trying to talk me out of one of the most important missions of my career?"

Shifting his weight to his other leg, Steve jammed his hands into his pockets. "Nothing. No reason. I just thought...you might want to sit this one out. It's going to be dangerous."

"You said that already," Clint pointed out. "Besides, it's never stopped me before. And it's also never bothered you so what's going on?"

Steve found a spot on the floor to stare at instead of looking at Clint. Realization dawned on the archer.

"It's because now you know I have a family, isn't it." It was a statement, not a question, because Clint knew exactly what kind of man Steve was.

The ensuing silence confirmed his theory. Shaking his head in disbelief, Clint ran his hand down his face and turned in a half circle away from Steve. Steve waited motionless. When Clint spun back around, his eyes were shining with muted anger.

"You think I'm being reckless," he announced, voice rough. "Irresponsible."

One of Steve's shoulders lifted in a small half-shrug, his mouth opening. Clint cut him off before he could make a sound.

"You don't think I know the risks?" he accused. "That I don't know the hell I put Laura through every time I suit up?" His voice was rough, layered in gritty sandpaper hurt and guilt.

"I'm not-" Steve started, raising placating hands.

"Every time I walk out that door," Clint thrust a finger down the hallway toward the front entryway, "I know I might not come back. I think of how I grew up. Not having a dad around-I never want to put my kids through that," he insisted vehemently. "I don't want Laura to have to wear black and I don't want a headstone to be the only father my unborn son ever knows." A vein pulsed in his temple and his chest heaved. "But I go out there anyway. I go out and I do my job so they don't get murdered or enslaved by some freaky alien god or a robot built by my own damn teammate. I love my family and I swear I will keep them safe. And if that means risking my neck, you can be damn sure I'm going to risk it." His final words echoed in the hallway, his harsh breaths underscoring them.

Steve remained silent as Clint took a few moments to collect himself. Clint bowed his head and rested his hands on his hips. Finally, he looked back up at Steve.

"Do I wish things were different? Do I wish I could see my family more than twice a year? Of course I do," Clint murmured. "But they aren't. There's still evil in this world. And as long as there's evil, I'm going to do everything in my power to stop it."

Absently fingering the crusted scabs in his palms, Steve nodded once, understanding only too well the other man's sense of honor and duty. "You're a good man, Clint," he stated softly, resigning himself to the fact that there was no way to change the archer's mind, and admiring Barton for his dedication and courage.

He met Clint's gaze and held it, communicating his respect.

"Am I interrupting something?" Tony inquired, glancing between the two men as he stepped off the staircase, arms loaded with sheets and blankets.

"No, actually, we were just talking," Clint broke eye contact with Steve and smiled at Tony. "We're done now and I'm going to hit the sack. See you in the morning." He tipped his head at the billionaire and gave Steve one final look before he climbed the steps.

"What did I miss?" Tony questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"None of your business, Stark," Steve replied easily, watching Clint disappear upstairs. When he could no longer see the archer, he turned back into the kitchen.

Okay, before anyone asks, IMDB lists Barton's kids names as Cooper and Lila. As a tribute to the comics, I changed the boy's name to Francis. But I did leave the girl's name as Lila because I had no idea what else to call her :)