Chapter 4:

Harry awoke slowly to someone gently stroking his hair and the low murmuring of voices. Harry laid there for a while, enjoying the sensation, before opening his eyes and turning to see who it was. As his head moved, the hand stopped and moved away, allowing him to see the concerned looks on Steve and Clint, who had also stopped talking.

"Hey, Bud" Steve smiled, "Are you hungry? You missed dinner, but we can warm up your plate"

Harry's stomachs growled in answer, making him blush and duck his head. His Daddy's laughed gently, and stood up, and before Harry could stand too, he was swept up unto large arms and held against a broad chest. Again, it took him a few moments to relax, but soon he was snuggling into Steve's warmth.

A couple minutes later, Harry was set down in a seat at the table, and a plate of food placed in front of him, freshly heated by Clint, who had run ahead to warm it up. Steve sat down next to him, while Clint sat opposite him.

Harry tucked into his food, but being mindful not to make a mess. His Aunt and Uncle hated him making a mess, and he soon learned not to. Steve and Clint talked about work, or what Harry assumed was work; he wasn't too sure. Whilst he ate, Harry looked around the room, happy to note it was still sparkling clean from his earlier clean. Harry turned his head further, and stilled when he caught sight of Bruce and Natasha on the sofa, sitting close together and whispering to each other.

Harry watched his mummy, and took in her green eyes, though they weren't as bright as his, and her shiny red hair. She looked like his other mummy. Harry had once seen a picture of his other mummy while cleaning out the attic. She too had had green eyes and red hair. Aunt Petunia said they were horrid colours, but Harry thought both his mummy's looked very pretty.

Harry watched as her face scrunched up and her eyes flicked over to him, making him freeze. He saw her face straighten out again and turned away. She didn't smile at him like he hoped. In fact, he couldn't tell what she was feeling at all. Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon and Dudley had been easy to tell what they were feeling and thinking.

Harry turned back around and set his fork down and sighed. He wasn't hungry anymore. He really wanted to make his mummy happy, but he didn't know what to do. He had cooked and cleaned, but neither of those seemed to make her happy. Maybe he should draw her a picture with his new pens and pencils. The other kids from school were always taking their art home to their parents. He had done it once, and Aunt Petunia had ripped it up and put it in the bin, stating it was hideous.

Harry flinched and fell out of his seat when a hand settled onto his head. The chair clattered down to the floor beside him, making him cringe and cover his head with his arms, muttered apologies, hoping he wouldn't be hit.

Steve stared in shock as his little boy cowered from him on the floor, protecting his head, like he was expecting to be hit. He hadn't meant to scare the boy. His son had obviously been away in thought and hadn't heard his name called, so Steve thought he'd stroke the boys hair, like he had done earlier, to pull him out of his mind. Not knowing what to do, Steve turned to look at Clint, who had moved around the table toward the child.

Clint had been having a niggling sensation since meeting the boy, that something wasn't quite right, and now it was like a slap to the face. His son had been abused. There was no denying it. He had seen many abused kids in his line of work, and they typically had similar reactions to certain situations.

Clint crouched down near the boy, giving him space to run, if he needed to. Crowding and cornering abused children, when they were scared, usually ended up with bruises and/or bites and a hysterical child.

"Harry, it's ok, your safe here, baby. Shhhh" Clint spoke softly to the boy, not moving from his spot. After a little while of Clint repeating that he was safe, Harry stopped apologising and slowly uncurled, his eyes darting between the two men near him. Clint smiled at his son and held out a hand.

Harry eyed the hand for a moment, wondering if it was a trick, but decided that Clint hadn't hurt him yet, so he would give him a chance. Stretching out his hand, Harry was just about to touch Clint, when a loud swear filled the room, making him flinch back, and spin round to the words origin. Tony was stood in the doorway, frowning at the chair on the floor, then at him.

"You broke the chair. I only just redecorated this room" Tony grumbled, making his way to drinks cabinet and getting himself a glass of whiskey, "Jarvis, order a new one, would you pal"

"Right away, sir"

Harry discreetly watched as Tony went to join Bruce and mummy on the sofa, his face burning with shame.

"Tony, it's just a chair. We've all broken a lot worse over the last few years" Steve frowned at the man.

"Come on, Harry. Let's go join them" Clint smiled, and held out his hand again.

Harry eyed the two men once more, before getting to his feet, avoiding the helping hand. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and kept his head down as he shuffled his way over to the sofa and sat down gingerly on the opposite end of Tony.

Steve and Clint followed, making themselves comfortable in the space left, making sure the give Harry some space, to help him relax.

"Harry, we wanted to talk to you about earlier, if that's ok?" Clint asked the boy, leaning forward on his knee's.

Harry looked at him with a frown, confused about what they needed to talk about, but nodded his consent anyway.

"We wanted to ask why your were cleaning?"

"I-I always c-clean" Harry stuttered, his frown deepening, "Did I-I d-do it w-wrong? I'm s-sorry" Harry continued, looking down in shame. He thought he'd done really well, but Clearly he was wrong; Again.

"Wha? No, no, you did it perfect, Buddy, but you shouldn't have. You don't need to clean here, or cook, or do anything. You're a child, Harry. Children don't clean or cook. That's for adults to do, ok?" Steve got out, clearly upset.

"Harry, did you clean and cook at your relatives house?" Clint asked, when Harry did answer.

Harry nodded briefly, still clearly confused. What did they mean, it's for adults? Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon never cooked or cleaned. Well, he supposed Aunt Petunia use to, before he learnt, but that was just while he was learning. But then, Dudley never did anything either, and he heard kids at school bragging about what their mummy had made them for dinner.

"Do you understand Harry?" Clint asked, needing to know if his little boy did, in fact, understand.

"I-I don't know" Harry frown at the floor.

"Oh, jeez, kid! Don't clean and don't cook! Got it?" Toby snapped at the boy, and ignored the way the boy flinched and cringed away.

"O-o-ok" Harry stammered out, not wanting to anger the man any further.

"Tony! For goodness sake, stop! Please!" Steve glared at he man child, who just waved him off, and resumed whatever he was doing on his tablet.

Clint moved off the sofa, and crouched down in front of the tiny 5 year old, slowly and gently resting a hand on a bony knee, making a mental note to give the boy high calorie meals, to get some meat on him.

"Harry, this might be a hard question, but I'd really like you to answer honestly, please" Clint paused briefly and sighed, "Harry, did your relatives ever hurt you?"

Harry froze, eyes darting up to meet his daddy's, unsure what to say. No one had ever asked him that. Uncle Vernon had always told him if he dared tell anyone about his punishments, then he'd string him up in the basement and strip the flesh from his back. Harry sucked in a breath, when his lungs started to hurt and shook his head quickly, before turning to look out the window, tensing up, in case his daddy knew he had lied.

"Ok, little man" Clint said sadly, knowing the boy, his boy, didn't trust him. "Do you want to go play in your room?", Giving the boy an escape.

Harry nodded, and scurried out of the room, then ran down the hall to his room.

—

Clint heaved a sigh as he sank onto the sofa, once Harry had high tailed it out of there.

"What did you mean by hurt?" Tony asked, frowning down at the tablet, not paying it any attention.

"I'm pretty sure he was abused, Tony. There's so much wrong with him. Cooking, cleaning, he stutters and flinches. He's tiny for his age. It possible that physically, he's only been slapped around a bit, but it could be worse. None of us have seen him undressed, so he could be hurt. If he is, his relatives made sure to hit him where it can be hidden. I'll run him a bath in a bit and help him, so I can check without upsetting him too much" Clint explained, "Oh, and Jarvis, let us know if he starts cleaning or cooking, ok? He's really too young to be doing it, especially alone".

"Of course sir. I had gathered from several sources that 'chore's' are good for children, but I didn't take into account his age. My apologies" Jarvis intoned.

"That's ok Jarvis. Parenting is confusing and hard to the rest of the human population too" Clint grinned up at the ceiling.

Looking over to Natasha and Bruce, since they had been rather quiet the whole time, He was kind of glad to see that they were clearly upset. They were both cuddle together, holding hands and wore frowns on their faces. He knew finding out they had a child was hard on them. They had both come to terms with never having children, and now one was suddenly thrust on them. He knew they just needed a little time, and hopefully, the thought of their child abused was the push they needed, as sad as it was.

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Sorry, for the horrendously long wait :( Hopefully it wont be this long again x Enjoy xc