He hadn’t succeeded at all, Natasha could tell he was worried. She should have argued a little, shouldn’t have agreed so quickly, but she didn’t have the energy to fight with him this morning, especially not when she knew he was right. It had been a few days and it certainly wasn’t the flu, so it was time to suck it up and go to the doctor.

Her legs felt shaky and weak as Clint helped her up to sit on the toilet, and she caught the edges of his sweater between her fingers and wrapped it more securely around herself.

“I’ll be fine,” she said, smiling at him, but it was a hollow gesture. “I’ll just get myself ready, you take care of our little one.”

Our little one. She had meant to say the little one but it hadn’t come out right, her mind was on other things.