mini nanowrimo, word count 1585, sequel to of stars and skies
So, I asked schuyler what I should write for mini nano tonight and she said, "something happy!" and lo my WsIPs have no happy things at the moment. So, I said "eff it! alien babies make everything better!" and it is ridiculous, but here you go. Clint and Coulson have adopted an alien baby. And some other things that happen.
Title: You Say Tomato, I Say Cú Ada and Megil Ada
Author: clumsygyrl/thegirlthatisclumsy
Pairing: Clint Barton/Phil Coulson
Summary: Clark Clinton Coulson-Barton was a strangely precocious baby.
Notes: I write things to make myself happy. Alien babies make me happy. Alien babies adopted by an archer and his back from the dead but not a zombie husband make me really happy. Uh, continuation or another fic in the universe where Clint and Coulson end up with an alien baby. First fic was of stars and skies.
You Say Tomato, I Say Cú Ada and Megil Ada
Clark Clinton Coulson-Barton was a strangely precocious baby.
Clint watched his barely eighteen month old son push himself up into a sitting position and drag over a bucket of blocks. “Coulson,” he yelled into the other room. “Phil, babe. Our son seems to be making a model of Chichen Itza. With Duplo blocks.”
There was a pause in the sounds from the lunchtime kitchen preparations.
“If it's not to scale, I'm not worried.”
Clint shrugged and went to go fetch more blocks for his kid. Mayan temples were not built in a day and without the expansion box of blocks.
=
“Your kid is purple,” Tony said sipping his veggie medley shake from a high ball glass.
Phil wiped the rice porridge from Clark's chin and dabbed at the new stain on his blue tie. “Yes. I would have thought that the repeated recognition of that fact would have sunk in in the past year and a half, Stark.”
Tony scratched the side of his nose with what looked like one of Clark's teething rings. “It's a safety concern is all.”
Phil held the spoon away from grabbing little fingers and swirled it in a loose figure ate before poking it into Clark's mouth. “How so?”
“How will you know if he's choking if he's purple already?”
The pleasure of seeing Tony's face when Clark spat up with surprisingly good accuracy onto Tony's sneaker was rather high.
=
“Cú Ada!” Clark said pounding his fist on the table with his face scrunching up.
Phil noted that it was the precursor tantrum face. It was the face that Clark made every time Clint had to go away for a mission that lasted longer than a day. “Daddy's not home, baby. He'll be back tomorrow.” There were more babbled baby words with a continuous plaintive whining of “COO AHDAH!”
“Megil Ada! Cú Ada!” Clark was crying now and his face was turning a deeper eggplant, his big blue eyes were filled with tears and he was making grasping little demands with his fingers for Phil.
Phil swooped the baby up in his arms and rubbed his back. “Shhh, Daddy will be home tomorrow, baby.”
Thor poked his head into the nursery and frowned. “What ails the babe, Son of Coul?” He picked up a stuffed rabbit from a nearby shelf and put it down with a frown. The explanation of Midgardian toys seemed to both amuse and perplex the god. “I heard the cries from across the tower.”
“Not sure except that I'm guessing Clark is missing Clint,” Phil said smoothing his son's hair back who was still sobbing full out in heartbreaking little bleats.
“Would you like me to converse with him, Son of Coul?” Thor asked holding his hands out.
Thor had been on a long visit introducing his lady fair to her future in-laws on Asgard during the first year of Clark's life with them. Thor was both pleased and honored to have been named one of Clark's protectors. Clint had joked he just wanted to make sure that their kid had babysitters when he wanted husband conjugal visits.
“You speak baby?” Phil asked and there was no helping in the stopping of the eyebrow that went up.
Thor carefully took Clark out of Phil's arms and shrugged, the stretch of the simple cotton shirt over his massive shoulders would have been distracting to any normal human. Phil had become immune years ago, he had Clint Barton's arms to desensitize him to anything but Clint Barton's everything. It was a blessing and a curse. “The All Speak crosses many worlds and the age of the being matters little. I am familiar with the people that helped you, Son of Coul, and their tongue is easily translated into Midgardian.”
Thor held the baby up so that Clark rested against one big forearm and Thor could speak with him. As soon as Thor's first few words were directed at Phil's son, Clark began to babble in a rather constant stream. The back and forth was attention grabbing. He heard several repeated words before Thor turned back to him with a big smile on his face.
“Your son is quite clever.”
This was not news to Phil.
“I know. He's quite the builder and is already on mostly solid food and walking with little assistance. And he's babbling and we're thinking he'll be talking soon,” Phil said smiling at that thought.
Thor frowned. “Son of Coul, your son is speaking fluently in his own language. The thought process is juvenile, but the words are clear and in sentences. He calls you and your warrior mate as such.”
“I beg your pardon.”
“Your son,” Thor said fondly looking back at Clark who was now resting comfortably against his chest. “Knows who you are and has told me he has tried to talk to you, but knows that you and brother Clint may not understand his words. It is why he is crying. He is frustrated and wishes to know where brother Clint has gone,” Thor rubbed the baby's back. “He calls Clint “Cú Ada” and you, Son of Coul are “Megil Ada” which are lovely heartfelt and appropriate namesakes.”
Phil blinked at the awe in Thor's voice. “What do those names mean in Midgardian?”
“Ah, Clint is “bow father” and you are “sword father.” He knows that his fathers are warriors,” Thor kisses the top of Clark's head and passes him back to Phil. “He also knows his name is Clark. I told him that there was one a great explorer of your country that trekked many miles with a companion and a native woman to map out new places for more humans to explore on their planet. He has told me that perhaps he will one day travel unknown places. Mayhap to keep it safe as his fathers do.” He cleared his throat and nodded down to the sleeping bundle against Phil's chest. “He is lucky to have such honorable examples.”
Phil tightened his hold on Clark. “He is not the only one.”
=
Clark took his first unassisted steps in the middle of a fire fight.
Clint was going for a run through Central Park with Clark in the baby jogger when a rip in the sky opened and a swarm of flying robot bees came out shooting. He had no weapons other than a small caliber pistol he kept strapped to his ankle under his track pants.
“Damn, damn, hell,” Clint muttered and felt a rush of terror sweep over him when he yanked the stroller to the side of the running track. He unbuckled Clark and tried to scoop him up.
Unfortunately, that was the moment a significant starburst of pain exploded against the back of his skull and the world grayed out for a moment. There was a baby's cry and Clint held onto consciousness with his fingertips. “It's okay, baby.” He was already saying as he swung around to face the threat. The robot bee had circled back and was flying down the path, scattering screaming park goers left and right.
Clint pulled his weapon and he braced a foot behind him, crouching in front of the stroller sighting down the robot. His finger tensed on the trigger when Clark's giggling babble made him turn his head. His son was laughing and clapping his hands.
His son was laughing, clapping his hands, and walking on wobbly little steps toward the giant flying bee robot that was going to incinerate his son.
The robot's laser blast took out a park bench and half of a tree before Clint could move or shoot at it.
Then his son yelled something out and the bee was swatted out of the air by some unseen force.
Clint blinked and then bent down to scoop his son up and set off on a dead run back to the tower. “Clark Clinton, you have some explaining to do.”
“Cú Ada! Damn! Damn! Hell!” Clark giggled.
Clint groaned. Phil was going to kill him.
First steps, first curses, and first superpowers all without any pictures.
“Your father is going to kill me.”
Clark giggled and swatted his daddy's face with a sticky little hand. “Megil Ada taser Cú Ada! Zzzzt!”
Clint kissed the baby's forehead. “I really wish you weren't right about that.”
=
“So.”
“Yeah.”
Phil added the newish picture to the album and Clint scratched the back of his neck. “Telekinesis.”
Clint nodded.
“Well, we'll get him into the training room so he can work on his aim,” Phil said smiling slightly at the picture from the previous night.
It was Clark's second birthday with all his sundry aunts, uncles, and honorary godparents in atttendance. The photo showed Clint beaming at Clark and Phil helping to blow out the candles.
The cake was chocolate and was hovering a foot off the table. The perfect height for Baby Coulson-Barton to reach the candles.
“I do have pretty good aim, sir.” Clint said pulling his husband into his arms.
Phil kissed Clint's cheek. “You do at that.”
The baby monitor sat on their dresser, quiet except for the soft shushing of baby snores and the sounds of the city at night.
fin
Author's Notes: Clark speaks Elvish as his first words. I know, I know.
Cú Ada = Cú (bow); Ada(father) = “bow father”
Megil Ada= Megil(sword); Ada(father) = “sword father”
http://www.arwen-undomiel.com/elvish/eng_to_elv.html
6178 / 18000
(34.32%)
with new goal!
Title: You Say Tomato, I Say Cú Ada and Megil Ada
Author: clumsygyrl/thegirlthatisclumsy
Pairing: Clint Barton/Phil Coulson
Summary: Clark Clinton Coulson-Barton was a strangely precocious baby.
Notes: I write things to make myself happy. Alien babies make me happy. Alien babies adopted by an archer and his back from the dead but not a zombie husband make me really happy. Uh, continuation or another fic in the universe where Clint and Coulson end up with an alien baby. First fic was of stars and skies.
You Say Tomato, I Say Cú Ada and Megil Ada
Clark Clinton Coulson-Barton was a strangely precocious baby.
Clint watched his barely eighteen month old son push himself up into a sitting position and drag over a bucket of blocks. “Coulson,” he yelled into the other room. “Phil, babe. Our son seems to be making a model of Chichen Itza. With Duplo blocks.”
There was a pause in the sounds from the lunchtime kitchen preparations.
“If it's not to scale, I'm not worried.”
Clint shrugged and went to go fetch more blocks for his kid. Mayan temples were not built in a day and without the expansion box of blocks.
=
“Your kid is purple,” Tony said sipping his veggie medley shake from a high ball glass.
Phil wiped the rice porridge from Clark's chin and dabbed at the new stain on his blue tie. “Yes. I would have thought that the repeated recognition of that fact would have sunk in in the past year and a half, Stark.”
Tony scratched the side of his nose with what looked like one of Clark's teething rings. “It's a safety concern is all.”
Phil held the spoon away from grabbing little fingers and swirled it in a loose figure ate before poking it into Clark's mouth. “How so?”
“How will you know if he's choking if he's purple already?”
The pleasure of seeing Tony's face when Clark spat up with surprisingly good accuracy onto Tony's sneaker was rather high.
=
“Cú Ada!” Clark said pounding his fist on the table with his face scrunching up.
Phil noted that it was the precursor tantrum face. It was the face that Clark made every time Clint had to go away for a mission that lasted longer than a day. “Daddy's not home, baby. He'll be back tomorrow.” There were more babbled baby words with a continuous plaintive whining of “COO AHDAH!”
“Megil Ada! Cú Ada!” Clark was crying now and his face was turning a deeper eggplant, his big blue eyes were filled with tears and he was making grasping little demands with his fingers for Phil.
Phil swooped the baby up in his arms and rubbed his back. “Shhh, Daddy will be home tomorrow, baby.”
Thor poked his head into the nursery and frowned. “What ails the babe, Son of Coul?” He picked up a stuffed rabbit from a nearby shelf and put it down with a frown. The explanation of Midgardian toys seemed to both amuse and perplex the god. “I heard the cries from across the tower.”
“Not sure except that I'm guessing Clark is missing Clint,” Phil said smoothing his son's hair back who was still sobbing full out in heartbreaking little bleats.
“Would you like me to converse with him, Son of Coul?” Thor asked holding his hands out.
Thor had been on a long visit introducing his lady fair to her future in-laws on Asgard during the first year of Clark's life with them. Thor was both pleased and honored to have been named one of Clark's protectors. Clint had joked he just wanted to make sure that their kid had babysitters when he wanted husband conjugal visits.
“You speak baby?” Phil asked and there was no helping in the stopping of the eyebrow that went up.
Thor carefully took Clark out of Phil's arms and shrugged, the stretch of the simple cotton shirt over his massive shoulders would have been distracting to any normal human. Phil had become immune years ago, he had Clint Barton's arms to desensitize him to anything but Clint Barton's everything. It was a blessing and a curse. “The All Speak crosses many worlds and the age of the being matters little. I am familiar with the people that helped you, Son of Coul, and their tongue is easily translated into Midgardian.”
Thor held the baby up so that Clark rested against one big forearm and Thor could speak with him. As soon as Thor's first few words were directed at Phil's son, Clark began to babble in a rather constant stream. The back and forth was attention grabbing. He heard several repeated words before Thor turned back to him with a big smile on his face.
“Your son is quite clever.”
This was not news to Phil.
“I know. He's quite the builder and is already on mostly solid food and walking with little assistance. And he's babbling and we're thinking he'll be talking soon,” Phil said smiling at that thought.
Thor frowned. “Son of Coul, your son is speaking fluently in his own language. The thought process is juvenile, but the words are clear and in sentences. He calls you and your warrior mate as such.”
“I beg your pardon.”
“Your son,” Thor said fondly looking back at Clark who was now resting comfortably against his chest. “Knows who you are and has told me he has tried to talk to you, but knows that you and brother Clint may not understand his words. It is why he is crying. He is frustrated and wishes to know where brother Clint has gone,” Thor rubbed the baby's back. “He calls Clint “Cú Ada” and you, Son of Coul are “Megil Ada” which are lovely heartfelt and appropriate namesakes.”
Phil blinked at the awe in Thor's voice. “What do those names mean in Midgardian?”
“Ah, Clint is “bow father” and you are “sword father.” He knows that his fathers are warriors,” Thor kisses the top of Clark's head and passes him back to Phil. “He also knows his name is Clark. I told him that there was one a great explorer of your country that trekked many miles with a companion and a native woman to map out new places for more humans to explore on their planet. He has told me that perhaps he will one day travel unknown places. Mayhap to keep it safe as his fathers do.” He cleared his throat and nodded down to the sleeping bundle against Phil's chest. “He is lucky to have such honorable examples.”
Phil tightened his hold on Clark. “He is not the only one.”
=
Clark took his first unassisted steps in the middle of a fire fight.
Clint was going for a run through Central Park with Clark in the baby jogger when a rip in the sky opened and a swarm of flying robot bees came out shooting. He had no weapons other than a small caliber pistol he kept strapped to his ankle under his track pants.
“Damn, damn, hell,” Clint muttered and felt a rush of terror sweep over him when he yanked the stroller to the side of the running track. He unbuckled Clark and tried to scoop him up.
Unfortunately, that was the moment a significant starburst of pain exploded against the back of his skull and the world grayed out for a moment. There was a baby's cry and Clint held onto consciousness with his fingertips. “It's okay, baby.” He was already saying as he swung around to face the threat. The robot bee had circled back and was flying down the path, scattering screaming park goers left and right.
Clint pulled his weapon and he braced a foot behind him, crouching in front of the stroller sighting down the robot. His finger tensed on the trigger when Clark's giggling babble made him turn his head. His son was laughing and clapping his hands.
His son was laughing, clapping his hands, and walking on wobbly little steps toward the giant flying bee robot that was going to incinerate his son.
The robot's laser blast took out a park bench and half of a tree before Clint could move or shoot at it.
Then his son yelled something out and the bee was swatted out of the air by some unseen force.
Clint blinked and then bent down to scoop his son up and set off on a dead run back to the tower. “Clark Clinton, you have some explaining to do.”
“Cú Ada! Damn! Damn! Hell!” Clark giggled.
Clint groaned. Phil was going to kill him.
First steps, first curses, and first superpowers all without any pictures.
“Your father is going to kill me.”
Clark giggled and swatted his daddy's face with a sticky little hand. “Megil Ada taser Cú Ada! Zzzzt!”
Clint kissed the baby's forehead. “I really wish you weren't right about that.”
=
“So.”
“Yeah.”
Phil added the newish picture to the album and Clint scratched the back of his neck. “Telekinesis.”
Clint nodded.
“Well, we'll get him into the training room so he can work on his aim,” Phil said smiling slightly at the picture from the previous night.
It was Clark's second birthday with all his sundry aunts, uncles, and honorary godparents in atttendance. The photo showed Clint beaming at Clark and Phil helping to blow out the candles.
The cake was chocolate and was hovering a foot off the table. The perfect height for Baby Coulson-Barton to reach the candles.
“I do have pretty good aim, sir.” Clint said pulling his husband into his arms.
Phil kissed Clint's cheek. “You do at that.”
The baby monitor sat on their dresser, quiet except for the soft shushing of baby snores and the sounds of the city at night.
fin
Author's Notes: Clark speaks Elvish as his first words. I know, I know.
Cú Ada = Cú (bow); Ada(father) = “bow father”
Megil Ada= Megil(sword); Ada(father) = “sword father”
http://www.arwen-undomiel.com/elvish/eng_to_elv.html
6178 / 18000
(34.32%)
with new goal!