Clint was looking at Lorenzo like he was talking in tongues or something. Normally he was at least five steps ahead of everything so he could maintain control over it, but this wasn't anything remotely close to what he was built for. He couldn't call in favours from 'connections' to sort shit out. He couldn't tackle it by going undercover and fucking someone up. It hadn't even crossed his mind that the little thing in the glass box attached to all the tubes and wriggling around in there would need anything from him. Wasn't that what mothers were for? Only, coming from Lorenzo, it threw Clint a curve ball. Holly only had hew mother for three weeks, and she had been fucked up in the head. Lorenzo had done it all on his own, so he was a voice of reason, no fucking doubt. But he usually was. "No, look... fuck. It's cool. He's good in there, you folk know what you're doing with him."

The words were falling on deaf ears. The nurse was obliging, giving them a friendly smile. Clint could just sit there, feeling scared out of his fucking mind as he watched the three pound ball of flesh be scooped out of the little nest they had him in inside the incubator. His heart was fucking racing and the verbal protests were pointless. The nurse placed the baby in his the crook of his arm, which she had swaddled in a soft blue receiving blanket. The nurse was telling him to nurse his head with one hand, and his bum with the other. Clint didn't even realise he had been holding his breath, until it came out in a rush around a whispered, "Holy fuck." He was rigid all over, because he was sure if he moved, he would detach vital wires or tubes. He was so fucking small. He looked at Lorenzo, and then the baby, and then repeated it again. His tiny head was even smaller than the cup of Clint's hand. He opened his eyes and when Clint saw them for the first time, he knew this was the moment everyone had been warning him about. He was beautiful and Clint was tearing up. "I'm so fucking sorry you got me as a dad."