Birds and Cupcakes

Three

Three weeks before Christmas, you stopped dead just inside your door after returning from a work trip outside of town. The place looked like a tinsel factory had thrown up inside a gingerbread house. Hell, the place even smelled like a gingerbread house.

Clint jogged down the steps and paused when he caught sight of you standing in the entryway with a dazed look on your face, "Hey, you okay?"

Your eyes met his, "Did we get robbed by a bunch of Santa's elves but instead of stealing shit they just...exploded everywhere?"

His laughed a little ruefully as he rubbed his hand over the back of his head, "Ah, yeah, the kids and I got a little enthusiastic with the decorating this year. You don't mind, do you?"

Your eyes softened. Even if you had minded, you wouldn't have told him that. You could see the way he was more relaxed than he had been in a couple of weeks. He was trying to not let it show, but the fact was the house arrest was wearing on him. And he wasn't even halfway through the first year.

But right now, as his eyes moved around the place, you saw the small smile and knew that this mattered to him. You walked over to him, patting his arm as you said, "Nah, I don't mind. Just wasn't expecting it. The kids are good, then?"

"Yeah, they are. It was a good weekend. Too short though." Clint followed you as you headed up to your office to dump off your bag. You heard the soft sound he made when you dropped the bag in the middle of the floor and headed to your desk, bending over to boot it up.

Without looking at him, you said, "I don't need your judgment, bird boy."

"I said nothing."

You looked over your shoulder at him. He was leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched you, "You thinking it is enough, I'm not a slob."

His hands came up in a gesture of defense, "Hey! I wasn't thinking that."

Your eyes just narrowed at him as he grinned and said, "I just think you're hella messy."

Sticking your tongue out at him, you started shifting papers around on your desk looking for a note that you knew you had made for yourself that related to your last case. You needed it to finish the paperwork. Once it was found, you sat down to type up your report only to realize Clint was still standing in the doorway.

"Yes?"

His head tilted, "You know, how can someone as meticulous as you are in your work be this messy?"

"Dog with a bone, Clint. Fuck off."

"I actually wanted to ask you something."

Your fingers paused, and you turned to face him to give him your full attention since his tone said it was all serious, "What's up birdy?"

"Laura suggested she bring the kids up here for Christmas Day and then asked if I wanted to keep them until after the New Year. I said I had to see if that was cool with you."

He was looking extremely uncomfortable and you felt your nose wrinkle in confusion, "Clint, why are you asking me if it is okay for you to have your own kids here?"

Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he shrugged, "Well, because it's your place and..."

You held up your hand to stop him, "Clint, you live here too. It's our place. At the very least for the next threeish years. You don't need to check with me if I am okay with your kids staying for any length of time."

"Right. Thanks."

His voice was quiet, like he was embarrassed or something similar, so to break the tension, you turned back to your computer and said, "Now, if you wanna move in some hussy that's a different story."