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Blankets Soft and Warm Will Shelter You From Any Storm

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Whitney was a tiny and red-faced thing. She had beautiful baby blue eyes that couldn't focus on anything in particular. It was almost ridiculous that James could measure how big Whitney was with his forearm.  She was as light as a feather in his arms. Cradled in Tony’s, RJ looked identical to Whitney. Both babies had the same dark downy hair on their heads inherited from their bearer and scrunched noses from general grumpiness. The colour of their eyes  was debatable. Although, for the time being, they were a watery blue. James couldn't stop  staring, his own eyes riveted to details that ultrasounds couldn't catch.

“Jamie?” Tony called, his voice was hoarse from hours of labour.

 

“Yeah, doll?” James replied easily.

 

“‘M gettin’ sleepy, don’ wanna drop her.”

 

“You want me to curl up behind you?”

 

“Yeah, don’ wanna stop holding my babies.”

 

“Of course, sweet thing.”

 

Tony looked just about ready to crash when --

 

“Where art my niece, you peasants!” Clint cried Natasha was a half step behind him.

 

“Fucking hell, Clint,” Natasha shoved the archer aside, “Now show me mini Natasha.”

 

The babies began to wail.

 

“I told you, her name is Whitney. Say it with me ladies and gents, Whit-ney, like the singer,” Tony tiredly quipped while he tried to soothe the spooked babies in his arms.

 

“And you know there are two babies, right?” James added, not quite knowing what to do with himself.

 

“Nope. All I see are squishy bundles,” Clint deadpanned as he stole a baby from Tony’s arms.

 

James may have growled.

 

“You don’t get permission to steal one of my squishies if you call them that,” Tony complained.

 

“You already got your hands full - just let me-” was it RJ? Yeah, RJ was in the yellow blanket, calmed down, “-there we go. Oh, I love it when they’re this small.”

 

“You don’t have any children,” Natasha pointed out a matter of factly.

 

“I have a niece and two nephews, thank you very much,” Clint defended haughtily before cooing at RJ again.  

 

“Where is everyone else?” James asked.

 

He was expecting at least Stevie would be there too.

 

“Mission thing, yah-dah yah-dah,” Natasha mumbled, watching RJ like a hawk over Clint’s shoulder.

 

“When’d that happen?” Tony asked, sounding and smelling panicked.

 

Whitney whined in Tony’s arms. Tony took a calming breath and she quieted.

 

“About five hours ago,” Clint replied.

 

“Why didn’t we know?” James asked, a little disgruntled.

 

“Look, do you think even Fury  would try to separate an alpha from his mate when the said mate has been in  labour,” Natasha stretched the word, “for fifteen hours?”

 

“Which one of you did he send to tell us?” Tony pried, making funny faces at Whitney.

 

“Sam. I swear to God, I could hear Sergeant Grump's growl from the waiting room.”

 

The alpha in question hummed, not exactly surprised.

 

“Anyways, I want my niece,” Natasha reminded the pair.

 

“Only if Clint gives up our son,” Tony bargained, his tone no-nonsense.

 

Clint made a wounded noise but gave up RJ without a fight. James and Tony’s son snuffled in one of Tony’s arms, half-lidded eyes slipping closed a second after he made a little, ‘whumphed’ noise. The soft moment, unfortunately, could not last for James. Some sort of protective instinct kept his eyes on where Whitney was cradled in Natasha’s arms. She played with the little hands that had wiggled themselves out of their blanket. Natasha’s blue eyes remained riveted to her tiny niece.

 

Tony leaned his back further against James. It struck him that Tony was just as tired as he had been before the wonder twins interrupted. James could tell when his mate stifled a yawn.

 

“How about you guys come back a bit later?” James asked quietly, a little hesitant to ruin the soft atmosphere.

 

“But we just got here!” Clint pouted.

 

James raised an unimpressed brow and the archer relented.

 

“Nat?” Clint addressed his partner in crime gently.

 

Natasha hummed noncommittally.

 

“You gotta give them their baby back.”

 

Natasha sighed, a little disappointed. Whitney was soon back in Tony’s arms, regardless.

 

“How about you guys come in a bit later?” James suggested quietly.

 

“Sounds good,” Clint mumbled.

 

The door clicked closed quietly behind the two spies.