study_in_scarlet | Dancing in the Dark (for farmboyhawk)

Clint was on his feet before his brain hadn't even caught up with his senses. There had been some whining going on in the bathroom, he remembered vaguely, and first he had thought, Natasha just tried to bath Liho again or something. But now these noises didn't sound cat like at all anymore.

That evil doubtful voice inside asked him if he really wanted to go in there, fully knowing that he would feel only worse then. But that voice he could kick in the balls easily and tell it to piss off, and boy, did that feel good. Natasha was feeling miserable, it finally had all become too much for her, so he had to help. Period.

He startled a little when he saw her sitting on the floor, fearing that she had collapsed and he hadn't even realized it, but she didn't really look sick, not as much as in the morning. Only lost.

He dropped to his knees to wrap his arm around her shoulder and realized with half an eye that Liho fled from Natasha's lap. Right now he couldn't even be pissed that she couldn't stand him. He couldn't stand himself right now.

"Nat, I'm here. It's okay, I'm here. I'm sorry..."

He didn't know what exactly he was apologizing for - then again he had fucked up in the last few days and months - but both his voice and his soothingly caressing hand on her shoulder froze when he spotted something black-and-white between her fingers. He tried to look away immediately when he understood, he really did, but something kept on pulling his head down, forced his eyes open. So much for being rational.

The voice in his head still screamed at him to get up and run while there was still time, when he reached for that photo with a heavy trembling hand to take a closer look. It had met a tear or two from Natasha's eyes but it was still perfectly clear what it showed.

All these things he had been trying to tell himself since yesterday to help Natasha with this, crashed down on him with one shaky, hoarse gasp for breath. And he realized, without surprise, that he had indeed no plan for this mission at all. No orders, no trained mindset, nothing to excuse a bad conscience. None of this. He held the mission in his hands and it was nothing they could execute, file and forget.

"This is a baby", he heard himself say, stupidly and awkwardly and confused, and fucking hell, how was he supposed to handle this? He looked up at Natasha, desperately hoping that she had anything to say, anything at all. "I mean... This is our baby, right?"

It didn't feel any better, any more comforting once it was finally out of his mouth like a poisoned apple he had been chewing on. Just more real. And even more terrifying. There was a baby, they really had made a baby together. Natasha was pregnant, she could have his child... A miracle if there ever had been one, and here she was stuck with the greatest train wreck on the planet.

What now, Barton?

Edited 2014-06-19 18:39 (UTC)

This house had the thinest walls in existence, Natasha was sure of it. He wasn’t supposed to hear her, but then what had she really planned on doing if he didn’t? She couldn’t stay in here forever, and the second he looked at her he would have seen she had been crying. She was being irrational, this whole situation made her irrational, and she thought she hated that more than anything.

She wasn’t sure why he was apologizing and she didn’t care. Leaning into his embrace she tried to lose herself in his warmth and comfort, but when he suddenly stiffened she knew something was wrong. That was when she felt him gently tug the picture in her hand so he could get a better look.

Shit.

He wasn’t supposed to see it, she had made sure that he didn’t even know she had it, but it was too late to snatch it away now, too late to keep him from looking. She tried to breathe, tried to form even a few words, but he spoke before she could and his words were like a punch to the stomach. It was one thing to truly realise it herself, but to hear him say it aloud, to hear him confirm it, made it all too real.

Nodding at the question she choked down another sob as she forced herself to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry, I had to see it,” she rushed out quickly. “I had to know. If I was going to get rid of it I had to see it, had to face it.” Don’t go into an op without all the information, don’t make a decision without knowing as much as you can. That’s how they were trained, right?

Her words made him wince, startle just the slightest bit, and still he was glad she was saying it. They had been dancing around the subject long enough. This was a problem, and if they couldn't handle it, they had to get rid of it. As cruel as it sounded, that was what they were planning. And if they kept running from it, trying to fool themselves, it would only make the nightmares so much worse.

He really couldn't be mad at her for doing this though he kind of wished, she would have told him. Then again, maybe he had needed that cold shower, before he really could have ended up somewhere on Mount Etna with a bottle in his hand.

"I know."

It sounded very tiny and tired. He placed the photo back on her hand to let her know it was okay and wrapped his fingers around hers then, holding her close to him, softly rocking her in a manner of comfort he couldn't feel himself.

This was terrible, it hurt even more than he had expected, and looking away from the damn picture didn't help. He would always remember how it had looked from now on. He would be dreaming of this damn thing, and in his dreams he would wonder how it would have looked if the baby had been older, how it would have looked when it was born...

Stop it, stop it, you stupid fuck, right now.

But he couldn't stop it. His brain had finally caught up with the facts after lying to himself for long days, and now he couldn't stop thinking about it how it would be if they had a baby. It was the worst idea of the century. He was dooming this child just by thinking about it, he was being a shitty father before it was even born, but he couldn't stop thinking about it.

Natasha's hair got wet a little from where he nuzzled his cheek against her, silent, lost tears that he could stop just as little as his brain from working. Why couldn't they just be happy for once?

Wrapping her arm around him, she buried her face against his chest and just held him tightly. His heart was racing, his breathing not quite steady, but he was still there, still offering what support and comfort he could. He always did; no matter what he was always there for her, always put her first. He was her partner, her lover, her best friend, and the most important person in her life. She would do anything for him, and she knew he would do the same for her, but there had to be a limit, and this just might be it. She knew he would support any decision she made, but he had yet to give her a real opinion on any of this, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that he might resent her whatever she did.

And just what was she going to do? It had seemed so cut and dry yesterday. Of course it had still hurt, but she hadn’t seen another option, but now there was, now there was the chance of bringing life into this world. Could she really give that up? But what if she did decide to keep it but ended up losing it? She wouldn’t say she couldn’t go through that again, she could get through anything, it was how she was made, but it would be difficult, and she would lose another little piece of herself along with it, a piece of hope and normalcy. It would be easier to end it now, to remove the risk entirely, to keep control over it all.

It was the right decision, for them and for the lives they led and for the baby growing inside of her, but when she thought of it, thought of the picture, the decision felt completely wrong.

“I don’t think I can do this,” she said after a moment, her voice raw with emotion.

He didn't ask her what she meant, though at this point it could be really anything. He didn't tell her that he was there for her, either, because he had already told her and just had to trust that she knew at this point. In fact he wasn't really aware that he was about to say anything, until he heard his own voice and startled at the sound of it in the too quiet room.

"You can do anything, Nat. You're the strongest person I know."

And it was true. She had pulled through and often dragged him along with her when he had been at the point of breaking. She had made it out of the horrors that had been her early life with her sanity intact, and they were living at least something close to a normal life by now.

Or had, until yesterday. Now everything had changed.

Or had it? As terrible as all of this was, this at least was something countless other people went through on a daily base. Heck, they had seen the end of the world coming and defied it and still were here. They would get through this, somehow, no matter how fucking much it hurt right now.

But that was the point, they had to do it together. He couldn't leave her alone with this, just because he was afraid of the pain. He had to try at least, even if it would end bad for him as it always did.

"I don't know what to tell you, Nat."

He took her chin to turn her head, make her look at him, at his tears, his complete loss at what to think, to do. He had to let her see him raw if they were to come to a decision they could both live with.

"I've never been so afraid in my entire life. I'm afraid that you'll get hurt and I'm afraid of what will be if it all works out. I don't know what's worse at this point, I really don't. But I can get through this all with you, that's what I know. Because I love you, you know?"

He rested his forehead against hers again, tiredly, after his lips brushed hers for nothing more than a tender fleeting touch.

"I love you so fucking much, Natasha."

His didn’t interpret her meaning right, he didn’t get what she was referring to, and for now maybe that was okay. There would be chance to clarify later once she’d calmed down and gotten herself under control again.

When he made her look at him she could see nothing but truth in his eyes. He was as lost as she was, and just as emotional. Whatever they decided would be hard on both of them, and she appreciated that he let her in like this instead of just trying to be strong for her. There was a time and place for that, but now honesty was more important.

His words made her heart positively swell with love and appreciation and guilt that she was putting him through this. She would never want to do it without him, though. She could, and maybe in ways it would be easier, but she didn’t want to, not for a moment.

“I love you too,” she replied, her voice still choked and hoarse. “More than anything.”

Taking a shuddering breath she forced her eyes open again, cupping his cheeks and using her thumbs to brush away his tears. She kissed him briefly, just pressing her lips to his once, twice, a third time. His lips tasted of salt, or maybe it was her own. It didn’t matter.

Her touch and her words, that was just what it took to calm down at least for the moment. There would be plenty of more crying to do. Nothing had been solved and depending on what they decided, this state of fear and uncertainty could last for another six months. A thought that had Clint shudder and quickly shove it away for later. At least for the moment they were alright. Maybe because they knew and had decided to face it, just like everything else in their lives.

Natasha's lips were dry and her skin red from crying, so he decided to take care of that first. Much other than making it comfortable for her and be her shoulder as soon as she needed it wasn't in his power right now. He pulled her up carefully and helped her sit on the tub edge, then he soaked a washing clothe with lukewarm water and gently placed it against her cheeks to cool them.

"I've made you something", he murmured, hesitating, not sure how her stomach was doing right now. "How about a small bite? And then we can sit on the balcony for a while if you like."

She let him help her up, and while he got the washcloth she carefully folded the now wrinkled and damp picture and stowed it away in her pocket once more. She kept her eyes on him as he took care of her, his touch gentle and comforting. He always knew exactly what she needed, and while she knew he needed just as much care right now she let him do as he wished. If taking care of her helped him at all then she wouldn’t deprive him of that.

“Only if you eat something too,” she replied, and though her voice was still quiet and strained it had regained that certain edge that left little room for argument. “You usually eat twice as much as me and you haven’t eaten anything for almost two days. I’m going to need you to be strong, and you can’t do that if you starve yourself.”

If she laid it out like that, told him she needed his strength, then maybe he would be more apt to agree, to try.

"I'm not..."

Clint already started to argue but cut himself short with a sigh then. It was true, though, he simply wasn't feeling hungry. He had gone longer times with eating less in the past when the disaster that was his life had been at one of its lowest points. Admittedly, these also had been the phases when he had been drunk off his ass every night. Beer and wine did contain at least some nutrition, no matter how unhealthy. It wouldn't do Natasha any good if he collapsed at her feet anytime soon.

"Time to use the eggs anyway before they get spoiled", he murmured, resigned and without much enthusiasm. He would just drown a fried egg in a ton of ketchup, that would help get everything down.

"Come on, let's get a little more comfortable."

Still carefully, gently, he helped Natasha up and lead the way but stopped still in the door with a half amused, half annoyed snort.

"Um... I hope you like eggs too."

Probably he should be glad that they hadn't spent too much time completely paralyzed and blind to their surroundings in the bathroom. Or Liho would probably already have destroyed half of the living room instead of sitting in front of Natasha's half empty breakfast bowl and licking jogurt off her whiskers.

When Clint started to argue Natasha merely raised her eyebrow at him and he quickly trailed off. She knew they had both been in worse physical situations before, having to hole up somewhere with no food or water until the coast was clear to escape, but this situation wasn’t like that. This wasn’t life or death, but somehow it felt just as important. If they were going to make the right decision then they couldn’t add more elements in that would confuse the situation.

Even if she was quite sure she knew what she had to do at this point.

She knew he didn’t appreciate the pushing but she gave him a soft smile and squeezed his hand when he agreed to eat something, at least. Eggs actually sounded pretty good right now. Scrambled up they were pretty bland and easy on the stomach, and probably a lot healthier than more toast.

Sliding her arm around his waist as they exited the washroom, she was confused a moment when they stopped abruptly, but the sight that greeted her earned a surprise laugh. She had forgotten all about the kitten, and clearly Clint had too. No wonder it had been so quiet these past few minutes.

“I’m sorry,” Natasha said to Clint, hugging his waist a little tighter a moment before approaching Liho. “The food looked good, if it’s any consolation.” Liho tried to escape but Natasha managed to catch her and hoist her up. “You keep making messes like this and we won’t let you back inside.”

"Well, thanks. I'll try again tomorrow."

Clint didn't really think the situation as funny, or well, maybe it was, but if they both laughed now, Liho would think for the rest of her life that eating their food was a big joke. So he fought that smile on his lips and rather reached out for the bowl to carry it away - Liho had definitely had enough for now - when he had a better idea.

"Just keep her for a moment, red. She has to take her meds anyway."

He quickly went to the kitchen, realizing with half a thought that he should be finally putting that cat stuff somewhere else and got one of the pills for anthelmintic therapy he had bought. He hadn't been sure how to feed them to the little one without becoming the object of hate even more, but seeing her with that damn yogurt had triggered a faint memory.

"Had a pretty bad flu once when I was a toddler", he explained when he returned, bravely pushing away any associations with kids he didn't need in his head right now. "That's how my mother got them damn meds into me."

He bathed the small pill carefully in the yogurt and a little honey and held his finger out to Liho then. For a moment he was sure, she wouldn't give in, that she still hated his guts too much to accept food. But then she started licking his skin and he used the chance to slip the pill in her tiny mouth. She fought a little but he somehow made it to keep her mouth closed until she swallowed it. 1:0 for the house of Barton.

"See? Much better. Want to have a reward? Sure you do."

With a stupid grin, he dipped his finger into the yogurt again and held it out to the kitten until it overcame its new grudge and licked it off again.

"Good girl."

Clint finally grabbed that bowl before he could become weak once more and carried it to the kitchen to start cooking. Keeping himself busy always helped.

"Eggs coming up in 10 minutes."

Natasha held the kitten in her arms, scratching it lightly under the chin, while Clint went about getting its medicine ready. She knew they were probably giving it positive reenforcement for doing a bad thing, but she didn’t have it in her right now to scold the poor thing. She felt like an emotional basket case, something she was determined to blame on hormones, but if she had to be harsh right now and Liho gave her that wounded look she knew she was capable of then Natasha was sure she would just start crying.

“It’s certainly easier to stomach that way,” she said when Clint returned with the yogurt covered pill. She didn’t need to state how she had to take medication as a child. Maybe once, long ago, there had been pills covered in yogurt, but she barely remembered her life with her parents, and after that she had to take whatever she was given, as she wouldn’t like the consequences if she didn’t.

Liho struggled in her arms a bit but Clint held her mouth firm until she had to swallow. Of course he received a dirty look from the kitten after that, but he knew how to win her back and Natasha felt that twisting in her heart again at the grin on his face. As much as he had put on that he didn’t want the cat, any little bit of affection he got from it seemed to make him stupidly happy.

Watching him move back to the kitchen, she couldn’t help but think of how he would act with a little boy or girl, and the conclusion she came up with was that he would be an amazing father.

“I think you’ve had enough to eat now. We should probably let you back outside,” she said to Liho but the kitten nuzzled against her, clearly not quite ready to leave. “Okay, just a few more minutes, but then you’re out so we can eat in peace.”

Clint was tempted to sneak a few bacon or ham bits into Natasha's eggs to make sure she got strength back, but as long as her stomach was giving her a hard time, he couldn't risk it. Also, she'd have his balls for it and even sick she was still very capable of doing that.

So scrambled eggs it was for her and he made at least sure to spice it as interesting as possible. His own stuff was far easier to make, like crack that egg over a pan, slide it around a few times, splash it onto the next plate and drop ketchup on the whole thing. It wouldn't win a beauty price but he thought he could get at least most of it down his throat.

When he carried the plates next door, Natasha still had little one on her arms, a picture that hurt today, as ridiculous as it was. It was far too easy to picture her with another tiny bundle of life on her arms. Imagine how she would give all this love and care she treated him with to another human being, a kid that would be just like her, beautiful and strong, and if he didn't get his brain to shut up immediately, he'd end up kicking things again.

"I tried." He held Natasha's plate up shortly but didn't put it down on the sofa table as long as the kitten was in the house. He definitely had learned that lesson.

Clint was very lucky he didn’t try to mess with her food. She would know, and while she could appreciate his tendency to worry, she would not appreciate him trying to push her, especially while not doing the same to himself.

Lost in her own thoughts, Natasha looked up at the sound of his voice and gave him a soft smile. “Time’s up,” she said, giving Liho one last little scratch before carrying the kitten to the door. “Maybe you can come back in later,” she stage whispered as she set the kitten down on the stoop and reluctantly shut the door again. Heading back to the kitchen, she washed her hands in the sink before grabbing two bottles of water and joining Clint in the living room. “A few days and she’s already spoiled.”

"Well, I don't sign responsible for that. I'm the one she loves to scratch."

Clint thankfully took that bottle from Natasha because drinking was still easier than getting something solid in his stomach. But he had promised her so he sat down at the table with her and shoved down what was on his plate without much fuss. This time it at least tasted like ash with a hint of tomato. Maybe he should just stick with ketchup for the next two weeks.

With the kitten gone it was too soon too quiet again. Not because they had nothing to say to each other but because there was too much. Too much too heavy on their shoulders. Silencing it and hoping that the solution would fall from heaven wouldn't do it. Sure, they could sit on the balcony like yesterday, and he would be with her if that was what she wanted... But somehow Clint felt that wouldn't get them very far.

He waited until Natasha was finished eating before he reached out for her hand, speaking quietly, hesitating, because he just had no clue what was going on in her head right now. She seemed to have calmed down a bit but that could as well change any second.

"Tell me what you feel like doing, red? Do you need to be alone for a while? Or should we try enjoy the sun for a while?"

The eggs were actually quite palatable, the texture making them easier to stomach. Seeing Clint actually clean his plate as well helped, and Natasha made sure to do the same. If they ate little else all day at least they had something in their stomachs.

The meal passed in heavy silence but she couldn’t bring herself to break it. What could she say at this point? She needed more time to think it all over, to run through every possible scenario, but how could she tell Clint that she needed time alone right now?

Thankfully she didn’t have to. He was as lost as she was and not knowing what to do next he made the offer for her. “I think I need some time to myself,” she replied, giving him a grateful look and hoping the words wouldn’t hurt him.

He had asked her and her answer wasn't unexpected, so he didn't feel either much relief or disappointment. Maybe Natasha could do what he couldn't, maybe she could sort her thoughts in a way that would help them make this decision, without the panic and helplessness that blocked his own mind from getting a grip on this.

"Okay."

Clint gently pulled her hand closer and pressed his lips to her knuckles for a long moment. He was there, always, as long as she kept that in mind, he could go for a few hours without worrying his head off.

"I'll be downstairs if you need me."

For a split second he had considered going on that run he longed for, but as long as Natasha physically didn't feel right, he didn't like the idea of leaving her alone. Even if he took his phone with him... On the top of a volcano, busy inhaling sulfur, he was of no use to her when she needed help.

He brought the plates into the kitchen and took a second to change into the pair of track pants he had brought for exactly this purpose and went down to the cellar then, armed with two bottles of water and towels. The fitness station was as clean as could be, Angelina was as thorough as always. Just the hinges needed help from the bottle of grease from his working table, before he could get started.

He finally collected his weapons while he was on it, just thinking shortly about working on that damn arrow head once more, but he knew, he'd just end up trying to shoot it. He had no idea what he needed right now, but falling into another depression because he couldn't handle his weapon anymore, probably wasn't on top of that list.

Stretching, pressing and lifting it was then, which was more than anything a good indicator about how he felt and how badly he needed distraction. There was hardly anything Clint hated more than working out. Today he didn't even mind that.

He tried to start low, he really did, knowing he wasn't doing himself any favor in pulling stupid stunts. But the harmless weights and exercises just didn't cut it. Only when the movements went form boring to strain and sweat began to soak his shirt, the thoughts in his head finally began to shut up. There was a comforting burn pulsating from his shoulders all the way down already, and when he started working that damn bench with his legs like it had personally offended him in some way, blissful empty shades of red settled in his brain.

He didn't stop to drink or catch his breath, he didn't pause, he merely sat up in between to adjust to a higher setting. It wasn't the empty headspace he enjoyed about handling his bow but it was enough.

Maybe he could work himself into complete exhaustion after all, all without booze or running through the summer heat. Everything was better right now than the memory of that damn ultrasound picture and knowing that this was most probably the only thing he would ever know about his own child.

Clint didn’t seem to have any negative reaction to her words; in fact, he had little reaction at all, though Natasha had the feeling he wouldn’t mind a little time alone himself. What would they really do together at this point? They couldn’t talk this through, not without some time to figure out their own feelings on the matter first, so what did that leave? Distractions, all they would do was distract each other, and that wouldn’t solve anything.

“Thank you,” she said, smiling faintly as he kissed her hand. They could use some time apart, they just had to make sure not to shut each other out.

Staying seated at the table while Clint cleared it and gathered his stuff before disappearing downstairs, she eventually stood and went to the kitchen to prepare some tea. Once it was ready she returned to the living room, mug in hand, and sat cross-legged in the middle of the couch. She considered the balcony but figured the air-conditioned house was a better choice for now.

Closing her eyes she took a sip of her drink before settling the mug between her legs and taking a few deep breaths. Meditation wasn’t something she did often, but in this case she had to try to clear her mind as much as possible, so maybe there was something to this.

First she tried to separate her emotions from her thoughts and come up with a logical solution. She weighed all of their options, and logically there was no question: getting rid of the baby was the only choice. They were assassins, they worked for a shady government agency, they went away for long periods of time and put their lives at risk on every mission. How could they even think about raising a child like that? Their entire entire lives would have to change to make it work, and even then their reputations could haunt them and put the child in danger, and that was all assuming she was able to carry to term instead of losing it again.

Logically the answer was so simple, but she knew she couldn’t make this decision based on logic alone, not without shutting herself down emotionally first. So slowly she let her feelings back in and that was when things got complicated.

She had lost a child before and it had been devastating, and she didn’t want to risk doing that again. Wouldn’t it be easier to end it now while it was under her control than to lose it later after she had let herself want it and love it and adjust to the idea of having a child? But then again... what if she didn’t lose it? What if she managed to give birth to a healthy baby? What then? She would have to leave S.H.I.E.L.D., have to give up the life of adrenaline and intrigue that she was so used to. A couple of months and she would go crazy surely. Then there was Clint. At the moment he seemed as if he could walk away right now and leave that life behind without looking back, but could he really if it came down to it? Of course one of them could stay with S.H.I.E.L.D. while they other stayed with the baby, but the worry was bad enough without that extra element, and how would they explain their absence to the child as it grew older?

Again, logic was taking over, and again the answer was obvious. No matter how she sliced it, they simply were not cut out to be parents.

Listen to your heart, not your head, she tried to convince herself. Just once she had to just feel this completely and not let logic in. If they weren’t what they were, if there was no danger in any way; if she could have this baby and lead a normal life like normal people do, would she want that?

Rubbing one hand over her stomach, she thought about the life that had started to grow inside of her. Life. She had thought her body a wasteland incapable of providing anything but death, but she could give life. If she let it happen she could bring a life into this world, a little part of her and Clint. She imagined how the child might look. Maybe it would have her hair and his piercing blue eyes. She thought of holding it in her arms, to hold life in her hands and protect it instead of end it. Then she thought of Clint and that stupid grin he wore whenever Liho showed him any affection. He was so terrified of becoming his father, but she knew he would be wonderful at it given the chance.

The chance she could give him.

She imagined Clint teaching the child archery, and chuckled to discover she imagined a little girl. A girl who would learn ballet and gymnastics and would grow up strong and beautiful and wise. A child who would never lack for love like her parents had.

Silent tears streamed down Natasha’s cheeks even as her lips curled up into a smile as she continued to imagine this perfect life that could never truly be, but there was a chance. There was a chance if she could bring herself to take it.

Everything hurt, mostly his neck from where had slipped awkwardly half off that damn bench. Clint blinked a few times and realized dully that the plan of catching his breath with closed eyes had somehow lead to passing out in the middle of his workout. Probably should be glad he hadn't thrown up and choked on his own breakfast.

He came up with a few colorful insults for his own stupid ass while he waited for his brains to catch up and then very slowly, carefully reached out for the barbell-pole to pull himself in a less contorted position. His throat was as dry as an Egyptian dune and only produced something between a gargle and an "Oomph", when his muscles reminded him of every single sin of the last hours. Finally he was on his back again and tried to stretch very carefully but rather let it be for the moment. There was a very high possibility of one or two vertebra slipping out of place if he tried.

Well, that had been fun.

With a little strain he could reach one of his water bottles at least and emptied half of it over his head which helped at least not feeling like passing out immediately again. He managed to get some down his throat too, but shit, that hurt too. He needed a shower and a professional Chinese torturer to beat his body parts back where they belonged.

Through the half open door he couldn't hear much so he hoped at least that Natasha was as alright as could be. And that she had spent her time wiser than him. He got to his feet somehow, like an old man, or like just having been punched out of some mess by an extraction team. It became a challenge, just trying to climb the stairs as graceful as possible, with his head tilted aside in an awkward angle.

He wasn't much surprised to find Natasha crying, and his first impulse was going there at once, but he probably smelled the way he felt. And the whole point of this had been alone for a while, even if it hurt, right?

"Can I do anything, red? Just need... Gonna take a shower, then I'm with you, okay?" At least his voice sounded half-normal again.

For a long time Natasha sat and imagined all the different scenarios that could come from this. She thought of all the joys and all the sorrows that could come from every possible outcome, thought of how each one would affect and change their lives and the life they led together. By the time she heard Clint’s footfalls on the stairs she felt a lot less lost though no less terrified than before.

Turning her head toward the sound of his voice she slowly opened her eyes to look at him.

“Okay,” was all she said, her eyes traveling quickly over his sweat drenched form. She could tell from the way he held himself that he had overdone it and was in a world of pain and probably in desperate need of a massage. She would offer once he’d finished his shower.

Bringing her forgotten mug of tea to her lips, she made a face at the now cold liquid. It was funny how hot tea that had gone cold was not a pleasant thing, yet iced tea was still good. Maybe she should make a pot and put it on ice for later. It would be a nice alternative to just chugging bottles of water.

The warm water helped a little, though Clint still preferred to keep his head slightly tilted to the left, that hurt the least. After two or three attempts he gave it up to soap himself up and just stood there under the hot spray, leaning against the wall with closed eyes.

He felt like shit but that was better than feeling even worse on the inside, he found. At least he had something else to focus on now than circling always the same question in his head like a broken record. Natasha would ask him again, sooner or later, he knew that, and he knew he had to answer her. But what if he still didn't know then? What if there would be only fear and pain through the next months?

And even if it did work out... Maybe they could somehow get this done, take time off like they had talked about it. And tell Fury to piss off if he didn't play along. If they needed help, Stark would probably be happy to build them a whole tower on their own, but...

That wasn't it. Clint was a train wreck but he had gotten that far in his life without crashing down over some bridge. He thought he could get Natasha and him through alone, even if they decided they wouldn't be alone anymore.

But he wasn't an idiot, at least not when he didn't decide to crash his body against a wall like today. He was very aware that a child needed more than money. It needed more than he was, it deserved more than he was. How was he supposed to help Natasha with this, when he had not an ounce of faith in himself?

Knowing this and thinking about how they would get rid of this were two completely different things, though. Just the thought made him want to puke his guts out at this point. How was he supposed to do, to watch this? This... this thing on that picture, it could be their baby. If it made it...

He winced a little when he leaned his head back to hold it under the spray but it helped, to clean his too hot, dazed head, his sticky hair, the old and new salt on his cheeks. Going in circles again, and it wouldn't stop, no matter how much time he spent in that damn shower. Natasha was crying, probably still, that thought finally got him to turn the shower off and awkwardly climb out of the tub to wrap a towel around his hips. He could help that at least. He was great as a shoulder to cry on.

"Hey."

He sat down next to her as carefully as he had climbed the stairs and made it mostly without grimacing. Only then he realized that he probably should have asked her if she wanted to eat or drink something. Oh well. Just the right punishment for his stupidity if he had to get up again.

"You hungry?"

Natasha listened to the sound of the shower, letting it calm the nerves that were threatening to to get fired up again. When Clint came back out they would have to talk again, and part of her was tempted to join him in the shower now and distract him. For how long, though? For how long could they keep dancing around each other or answering with I don’t know when they finally did talk? It didn’t matter that that was the honest answer, it wasn’t helping their situation at all right now.

Clint stayed in the shower a lot longer than usual and she was just wondering if she should go check on him when she heard the water turn off. Clearly he hadn’t fallen and injured himself, he just needed more time, something she understood perfectly.

She cleaned her face the best she could with the bottom of her shirt, but she knew when Clint emerged from the bathroom that she probably still looked like shit. Her eyes were red and puffy, but it wasn’t as bad as last time, and when she offered a small smile it wasn’t completely strained.

Turning to face him when he sat beside her she wrapped her arms around him and pressed her lips to his shoulder, absorbing him, breathing him in. “I’m fine,” she said, followed by another kiss. “You smell good...” One more kiss against his freshly washed skin and she let him go and sat back. “Now turn,” she instructed, making a turning motion with one finger that he should know all too well. She doubted he would agree on a full massage right now as he didn’t seem to want her to do anything for him, wanting to do everything for her right now instead, but maybe he was submit to at least his neck and shoulders.

"Always knew you had a sadistic streak", Clint murmured with half a grin.

He would much rather have spend time hugging Natasha close and feeling her lips on his skin, something so perfectly normal in contrast to all the crying and brooding. But he wasn't of much use to her if he couldn't move to her. And while her hands were evil and relentless when she wanted it, she would be a lot more effective than just trying to smash all the pieces back into places himself tomorrow or so.

So he turned obediently, bracing himself for the worst, and chewed on words that didn't want to come. And here they were back to silence. It couldn't go on like that. The situation was bad enough without both of them making it worse.

"So... Do we give talking another shot? Or do you need more time?"

“You love my sadistic streak,” she said, giving his shoulder a quick nip before he turned around. She could see him favouring his neck, his head mostly unmoving and tilted to one side, so that was where she started.

Her touch was gentle, just feeling him out a little first to find the worst of his injuries. He had really done a number on himself and she felt her stomach sink. They couldn’t go on like this or there wouldn’t be much left of him by the end of the week. Thankfully he recognized this too, and broke yet another uncomfortable silence that had fallen between them.

“I think we should try,” she said, placing a kiss right between his shoulder blades and lingering a moment before she leaned back again. She knew there wasn’t much Clint could really say at this point, not much he would say. He clearly didn’t know what to think, nor did he want to influence her decision; her decision, as he had been so adamant about. It was up to her to start the conversation, then.

“I have been weighing all the options, been comparing logic to entirely emotional responses. Logically it isn’t a question if you take all practical things into consideration, but it’s not that simple. It’s not like buying the right car or... I don’t know, something else.” She couldn’t think of another good example off the top of her head though there were a million of them. So many decisions had to be made logically and didn’t need to factor in emotions at all. This wasn’t one of those.

She paused to give him chance to speak if he wanted to.

Clint managed to stay mostly silent when Natasha started touching him, biting the inside of his lip and trying to will his muscles to give in. It didn't work as usual. Not only because there was a nerve where it didn't belong.

It was hard to relax when his mind was immediately on alert again, warning him that they were entering dangerous territory once more. But they had to. They had to go through the possibilities together. Natasha didn't want to let him out of this, so much was clear by now. He still didn't think he was a good choice to have a say in this but... He had promised her to be there for her. If that was what she needed for it, he had to get over his reservations and fears. It would hurt either way, no matter if he just went with her decision or laid out his thoughts.

"Not like we've always been very logical", he mumbled when she stopped, because she wanted him to talk and that was the first thing that came to his mind.

If he had been logical, rational back then, Natasha wouldn't be here to straighten his back where it belonged now. Then he would have fired that arrow into the right place and take care of the ruthless traitorous Russian murderer like it had been his job. Needless to say, he more often than not preferred to not act on his orders or on what other people would do. And Natasha wasn't exactly known as S.H.I.E.L.D.'s star pupil in every mission either.

The difference was that this wasn't about them only. This time their decision affected another life, not just for a moment, a day, a mission. This was about a whole new life either being started and maybe being fucked up or not. How could anyone make such a decision? He already felt his stomach flutter again and his back went even more tense.

"Fuck, Nat, this is... This is just too big. But I don't want to say no just because I'm a fucking coward. If you want that child, if you want to be a mother... I know that you'd do great, you know? It would make you happy and you would make the baby happy. That has to count for something too, right?"

Dancing in the Dark (for farmboyhawk)

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