Laying a towel on the floor to sit on, Natasha spent some time just resting her head against the toilet seat and willing the sickness to go away, but eventually it reared its ugly head again. At least she had considerably more in her stomach this morning, which strangely seemed to help.

Ten weeks. That was roughly two and a half months, which meant she had at least another six months of this to go through. Hopefully, her mind tagged on and she couldn’t help but laugh despite everything, though it wasn’t necessarily a happy laugh. Imagine, hoping to be this sick every day, but the alternative... she would take the sickness, she would take it all day, every day if she had to rather than go through that again.

She could hear Clint moving around in the kitchen, heard the front door and figured their little guest was in for breakfast, unless Angelina had decided to stop by. The woman hadn’t surprised them by showing up yet, though, so Natasha figure she knew they were private people and didn’t go for surprise visits.

When she was once again spent Natasha flushed the toilet and folded her arms on the seat to rest her head on again. She wasn’t sure it had passed yet and didn’t want to risk moving, though a shower sounded really good right about then. Maybe just a couple more minutes.