Stories From The Island
Target Practice

Warning(s): Spanking; spoilers for various MARVEL movies and television programs.

***

Clint had been living with Coulson for six months now and while he trusted his guardian, his father, completely, he still couldn't help but feel like it would all end in some rapidly permanent way. He was sure the older man would decide he was too much trouble and leave, just like Barney had.

Maybe that was why he'd been progressively working his way through all the school rules...and breaking them. This was the third time in as many days he'd been called into the principal's office and Coulson been called.

Coulson hadn't been very surprised to get yet another call from his son's school. Somehow, it seemed like Clint was working his way down the list of school rules, breaking them in various different ways.

Parking outside the school, Coulson entered the building and walked to the office, reflecting that he'd probably know this route by heart by the end of the current school year.

Clint sat on the hard, wooden bench outside the principal's door, waiting for his father to arrive. A sullen look was pasted on his face, but anyone who knew him well would have been able to see the worry, fear and shame in his eyes. He really didn't want to cause his dad problems...he just couldn't seem to help himself. This last time? He was sure it was going to be the last; Coulson wouldn't keep him when he'd heard what he'd done this time. He looked up and swallowed when Coulson stepped into the office to let the assistant know he'd arrived.

After talking to the assistant, Coulson stepped over to Clint. While he didn't sit down, he did give his son a gentle, encouraging smile while he waited for the principal to finish his meeting.

Clint could only look his father in the eye for a few seconds before looking down again, unable to face him. He couldn't help but flinch when the principal opened his door, suddenly speaking into the silence. "Mr. Coulson, Clint, I can speak with you now."

Coulson turned to the principal and nodded politely. "Of course." He wrapped an arm around Clint's shoulders... mostly so that his son would understand he didn't need to be scared. When he'd chosen to adopt Clint, Coulson had known it wouldn't necessarily be easy. He was fully prepared to deal with anything that came their way.

The principal, Mr. Stohler, motioned for them to sit before firmly closing the door against eavesdroppers and then pulling Clint's file to himself. "I'm afraid your son took actions today that are very serious, Mr. Coulson..." he began solemnly.

"What happened?" Coulson asked, his voice calm.

"Clint skipped class again...but this time, instead of being caught in the restroom smoking, he was caught outside the school building. He'd climbed up to the top of a nearby electric pole and was shooting BB's at the STOP sign half a block away. I can only assume he refrained from shooting when any cars were driving by, or people or animals were walking, as we didn't get any complaints- and luckily, no one was hurt- but the evidence of what he was doing to the sign were abundant...and he was only two feet away from one of the live wires on the pole. I'm concerned for your son, Mr. Coulson...his actions have become increasingly more reckless and today's dangerous stunt is one step further than we are able or willing to deal with. I'm sorry, but I'm afraid Clint is to be expelled, effective immediately. You'll need to enroll him in another school." Principal Stohler's voice wasn't angry, just concerned; but it was obvious the decision couldn't be appealed, at least not through him.

Clint sank down into the chair he'd been assigned, hunching in on himself and not looking either adult in the face. Hearing his actions explained to his father through another adult...he hadn't thought about the dangers of what he was doing. Only that it might be fun; might let him test his abilities that he hadn't used since Coulson took him in (Coulson wouldn't allow him a gun of any sort unless he was with Clint to supervise; and his job had been very busy lately, so the opportunity to go to a range and practice shooting hadn't been an option); might let him prove to his father that he was able to take care of himself without having to go to a boring classroom to learn. It hadn't been hard at all to steal the BB gun or BBs from the back porch of one of the houses he'd been walking by on one of the other days of skipping school. Now that he thought about his actions, though? None of what he had done seemed like a good idea anymore; and he felt ashamed.

Coulson's face was carefully expressionless throughout the principal's explanation, though he did glance at his son, reading Clint's face to see what he felt about his actions. "I apologise for my son's behaviour," he said, his tone as calm as he could make it. "I understand it was dangerous and I'm sure Clint is beginning to understand the same," he added. He didn't say that he would be discussing it with his son back at home, just as he didn't say his thoughts on why Clint was acting more and more recklessly and dangerously. While he planned to talk to Clint about both things, he wouldn't embarrass his son in front of someone not in their family.

Principal Stohler nodded. "I appreciate that. I...I hope you are able to get to the bottom of whatever is troubling Clint. He's a good boy at heart, I can tell. If his actions hadn't have been so serious...Perhaps he can enroll here again next year. But my hands are tied this year. He's broken too many rules.... I truly am sorry about that."

The principal's voice did sound regretful and Clint couldn't help but glance up in surprise, not having expected to have anyone other than his father on his side. The knowledge that another adult cared and that he'd let them down too, not just his dad, hurt and he had to swallow back a whimper.

"I appreciate the position you're in," Coulson replied. He placed his hand on Clint's shoulder and squeezed gently, speaking as much to his son as Principal Stohler. "We will figure this out." As serious as his voice was, it was also gentle.

Principal Stohler nodded. "Thank you. I'll send my assistant with you to clean out Clint's locker. Any books that need to be returned to the school for a refund can be handled by her...." He stood and held out his hand to shake hands with Coulson. Clearly, he considered the meeting over.

Clint bit his lip and swallowed, waiting for his father to indicate he should stand up before moving. What he had done and what had occurred because of his actions had finally sunk in and he realized that he had miscalculated badly. He wasn't certain what to expect, but fear that he would be sent away was strong, even if he tried not to be afraid of that.

Coulson shook hands with the other man and then wrapped his arm around Clint's shoulders, gently drawing his son to his feet. "Come on, son. Let's go home," he said, his voice gentle and affectionate.

Clint couldn't bring himself to say anything, but Coulson's arm, warm and gentle around his shoulders and the fact he still called him son, did a lot to calm him down. The principal's assistant had gone with them to empty out his locker and had taken any items that needed to be returned to the school and soon they were leaving the building and walking to Coulson's car. Clearing his throat awkwardly, Clint finally spoke. "Did...did I interrupt a mission?" he asked hesitantly.

Coulson hugged his son tight against his side. "The mission was over, but it wouldn't have mattered even if I got called during one. You will always be more important."

"Aren't you mad at me? I...I did a lot of bad things...." Clint continued in the same hesitant voice. He was starting to believe that maybe Coulson wouldn't send him away...but he wasn't naive enough to think there would be no consequences at all. If Coulson was very mad....

Coulson reached the car and released Clint just long enough so they could both get in... though as soon as they were settled, he gently squeezed his son's knee as he began driving back home. The pause gave him long enough to work out his response. "I'm not mad at you, Clint. I'm disappointed that you did something so reckless and dangerous... but I think I have a fairly good understanding of why you did that."

"You do?" Clint glanced up his own eyes filled with a bit of confusion. He wasn't certain he understood his reasons himself. How could his dad understand them? Biting his lip again, he looked down at his lap, his eyes falling on his father's hand where it still gripped his knee. "I...you don't have to pretend you know. I deserve for you to be mad at me...if you wanna yell or something..." he said softly, his voice ashamed. He didn't like disappointing Coulson. He would rather be yelled at than know he disappointed the older man.

"I'm not pretending." Coulson squeezed his knee gently. "And I'm not going to yell at you. I love you. There is nothing that can change that."

"Even when I disappoint you?" Clint asked in a tiny voice, the words catching in his throat.

"That never lasts for long," Coulson promised. "And I'm only disappointed because I know you can do so much better."

Clint swallowed hard. He hadn't really been thinking of why he was behaving badly, beyond wanting to see what Coulson did in response. He hadn't thought about possible results or repercussions. Disappointing the older man hadn't factored into his thoughts at all. Now? He felt very, very guilty about what he'd done, because he knew it had disappointed his father and his father would only be disappointed if it was something really wrong. "I'm sorry..." he sniffled, ashamed to find himself beginning to cry. "I didn't...didn't think...."

Coulson couldn't pull his son into his arms while he was driving, but he did wrap his arm around Clint's shoulders. "I know. We'll talk about it at home," he promised. "But I love you and I'm not going to give up on you. No matter what."

"I love you too, Daddy..." Clint said in a whisper. He was regretting his actions keenly and couldn't help but begin to fret about what might be coming. He believed his father wouldn't give up on him, if that's what was promised, though...so that meant he wouldn't be sent away. At least, he thought that was what it meant.

Coulson kept his arm around Clint's shoulders all the way back home. When he parked outside their house, he got out of the car and then wrapped his arm around Clint's shoulders once more to guide him inside.

Clint had been thinking about possible outcomes of his actions all the way home...if he wasn't being given up on and sent away, what would happen? Unfortunately, he suspected he knew...but his guilty conscience and vivid imagination had him thinking of things that, if he'd calmed down, he would have realized would never happen just because of the type of man his father was. He wasn't calm, though, despite the warm and loving arm around his shoulders. Once they were safely in the living room, Clint opened his mouth as if to say something, but the words wouldn't come.

So...instead...he bolted for his room, intending to dive under his bed.

Coulson wasn't surprised by his son's bolting, though he was worried that Clint felt like he needed to. He quickly went after him, wrapping his arms around his son in a tight hug almost before Clint even got out of the living room.

Clint only cringed away for a moment, just long enough for Coulson to pick up on it, before he realized he was being held tightly in a hug and not being hit. Letting out a tiny sob, he threw his own arms around his father, burrowing against him as if seeking physical reassurance of not being given up on or abandoned...reassurance that he was still loved and that (even if he was going to be punished) he wasn't going to be harmed.

Coulson hugged Clint tightly to himself, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "It's all right," he said, his voice soft. "This isn't the end of the world. I'm not going to give up on you. I'm not going to pull away. And I'm not going to hurt you. I love you." He didn't loosen his hold even a fraction.

"But I was really, really bad..." Clint said in a tiny whisper. He wanted to believe what Coulson said, but this was really the first situation since being adopted where the man had needed to see what Clint was capable of. "The only one who ever loved me that much before was momma...and she left..." he said sadly. "I don't think she wanted to, but..." He swallowed back tears. Barney had eventually left him, too, so maybe there was something wrong with him. How could Coulson not want to leave?

Coulson half-carried Clint to the couch, so he could sit down and cuddle his son on his lap. "I'm not going to leave you," he promised. "It doesn't matter what happens. Nothing is ever going to change that." Even his missions were considerably less dangerous, now that Coulson had his son who needed him to come back.

Burying his face against Coulson's chest, Clint snuggled like a very young child instead of the young teen he was. "I...I believe you..." he finally said softly. "...But I'm still scared. Why am I still scared?" He was so confused and didn't know what to think. All he knew was that he'd messed up, deliberately messed up, and now he wasn't even sure why he'd done it. "I'm sorry, daddy...so sorry...I...I can't even say it was an accident or that I didn't mean to..." Shame coated his words and he couldn't look his father in the eyes, although he didn't loosen his grip or pull away either, having finally realized Coulson wasn't going to let him go and he didn't really want to be anywhere else at the moment anyway.

Coulson tightened his hold, gently stroking Clint's hair. "This isn't the first time you've broken one of the school rules, even if this was the most dangerous," he said gently. "You've only recently become my son. I suspect you're pushing me to find out exactly how much I'm going to give... and because you think there's a point where I'll walk away. There isn't one... but it takes more than just words to believe that," he said, his voice gentle and compassionate.

"O...ok?" Clint said uncertainly. While he believed what Coulson was telling him- that his father wasn't going to walk away- he wasn't sure what that meant in terms of his pushing and how much Coulson would give. "I...you...I pushed hard this time..." he admitted weakly, his voice almost a question. He wasn't sure if he wanted to ask what his father planned to do about his pushing because if he asked then that meant it would happen.

"You did," Coulson agreed. "And when you're ready, we'll deal with it. I will spank you and then we will move past it," he promised.

Clint couldn't help the tiny whimper that escaped or the sniffles as he burrowed closer to his father. Snuggling for a few moments more, he finally sighed, though. "I...I'm ready to be dealt with, daddy..." he finally whispered. "I'm really, really, REALLY sorry...." He didn't say that he felt so guilty that he wanted to be punished...he hadn't thought about it in those terms, really. His tone conveyed it easily enough for him.

Coulson kissed Clint's head, holding him tightly for a few more moments. "I love you," he said, his voice quiet but no less sincere, before he gently turned his son over his lap, securing him with an arm wrapped around his waist.

Clint wrapped both his arms around his father's leg, holding on tightly and closing his eyes. "I love you too, daddy...."

Coulson rubbed his back gently and then tugged his pants and underwear down. Taking a tighter grip on his son, he brought his hand down in the first firm swat.

Clint expelled his breath with a tiny yelp, but managed to hold still. It hurt. Not as much as the knowledge he'd disappointed his father, but still. "Ow..." He whimpered.

Coulson hardened himself against the whimper, repeating the swat and then two more just below the first. He went down to Clint's thighs before starting over from the top. "What you did was very dangerous. Someone could have been hurt if you hadn't seen anyone passing in time."

Clint clenched his eyes tightly at the words. "I didn't wanna hurt anyone!" he cried out softly, wriggling slightly as his father covered his backside. He clenched the muscles of his bottom, unable to help himself. Even if he felt like he deserved to be spanked, he wasn't able to hold still and just accept it.

"I know," Coulson replied gently. "I know you didn't intend to cause any harm... but it was dangerous. And you know you shouldn't have done it. You know I expect better from you."

"I...I know..." Clint whimpered again, tears seeping out from under his eyelids. His father had high expectations for him, he knew this, and he had disappointed his father. It hurt.

Coulson completed the second circuit and began a third, swatting a bit harder and faster, though he was careful to hold back his full strength.

The guilt he felt at his actions had become more and more difficult to contain. Combined with the pain of his parent's admonishment and Clint couldn't keep quiet or hold still. With each new swat, he squirmed more and more, until he was wriggling like a worm over his father's lap. His whimpers grew into full out whines and then into cries.

It was hard... harder than anything Coulson had ever done... but he forced himself to finish with a final flurry of swats to Clint's sit spots and thighs. He then quickly gathered his son into a tight embrace.

It took a few seconds for Clint to realize the spanking had stopped and he was in his father's arms, but as soon as he did realize, he slumped against the older man bonelessly, sobbing. "I'm sorry, daddy! So so sorry!"

Coulson hugged his son tightly and kissed the top of his head. "I know. I love you and it's over with. I forgive you," he said gently.

Clint cried for several more minutes, but finally, he was too tired to cry anymore. All he could do was snuggle against his father, as close as allowed. "I love you, daddy..." he whispered, his voice hoarse and his eyes slipping closed from weariness.

****

"And that wasn't the last time I fell asleep in your grandpa's arms..." Clint gave his children a crooked and sheepish smile.

Bobbi stared at her older brother, eyes wide. "You actually tried to run from daddy?" she asked curiously.

Clint shook his head. "What? Did you think you and Grant held a patent on trying to escape what you know you've got coming? Besides. I was fifteen!" He didn't sound upset, more amused than anything.

Coulson's smile was fond. "It's not any different to the kind of testing I've seen later on." He didn't add, 'And the kind of testing in the rest of the family', even though that was heavily implied in his tone.

"When did you decide to follow in your dad's footsteps?" Sam asked curiously, trying to imagine Clint as a fifteen-year-old... which actually wasn't that difficult.

Clint glanced at Sam and grinned. "Shortly after that, really. Dad decided that abilities like I had displayed in my...misadventure...shouldn't be wasted. But he wanted me supervised when using them, to make sure I wasn't acting recklessly, so he made arrangements with Uncle Nick for me to come to his SHIELD base after school every day, where I would train with different agents in how to safely do my acrobats and hone my marksmanship. At first, I thought it was because he wanted to make sure I was behaving, but when I realized I'd not only be doing something fun, but I'd be closer to dad? Pretty soon, I was doing my best not to test him, because I didn't want to be grounded and lose even a day of the training...." He laughed gently.

"How did you get that kind of training?" Wanda asked her father. "I know you were in the circus... but how did you come to join that in the first place?" She was curious, almost wanting to know as much as she could about her father.

"After our mother died, Barney found a job in the circus for a few months. I went with him and discovered I was a natural when it came to marksmanship and being able to get into high difficult spots..." Clint shrugged sheepishly.

"So there was really only one 'honest' job you could go into," Natasha teased her older brother.

Fury, sitting with his children, abruptly chuckled and looked at Coulson. "I seem to recall an attempt at an 'honest' job that didn't exactly go according to plan..."

With his own laugh, Coulson defended himself. "I was only fourteen at the time..."

Clint was about to make a smart comment back to Natasha when he heard his uncle's comment. Raising an eyebrow, he looked at his father expectantly.

Grant didn't bother with non-verbal cues. "What did he do, Uncle Nick?" He grinned.

"Yeah! What did he do?" Bobbi asked in eager curiosity.

"Maybe I'd better tell the story," Coulson said wryly. "There's less chance of it being exaggerated that way."