It was about as close to a perfect day as Clint Barton had ever experienced. The sun was high in the sky, the air warm, yet breezy. He had worked hard for this homestead—had been through so much over the years in the service of first S.H.I.E.L.D., and then the Avengers. The farmhouse was his reward, his respite, his safe place.
And he had a family with whom to share it.
Clint took a lungful of fresh air, and stood next to his daughter, Lila. In her hands, she grasped a bow.
“Okay, hold on,” Clint cautioned, instructing her on the finer points of archery. “Donu0027t shoot.”
Looking over his shoulder, Clint saw his wife, Laura, preparing their meal at a nearby picnic table. He smiled, then turned his attention back to Lila. He held a handful of arrows in his hand, as he moved around behind his daughter.
“You see where youu0027re going?” Clint checked, nodding his head slightly to indicate the target hanging from a tree some yards away.
“Mm-hmm,” Lila answered.
“Okay. Now, letu0027s worry about how you get there,” Clint said. “Just gotta move your foot here ...” He continued the lesson by using the toe of his boot to guide and reposition Lilau0027s left foot, so it was pointing in the precise direction.
“Point your toe this way,” he encouraged. “Right here.”
Standing behind Lila, Clint helped adjust her posture, to make sure she had the proper archery stance. Together, they eyed the target.
“Your hips, here. Okay? Can you see?”
“Yeah.”
Then Clint took a handful of Lilau0027s hair, brushing it in front of her eyes, teasing her.