study_in_scarlet | Dancing in the Dark (for farmboyhawk)

“Among other things,” Natasha replied with a grin. She watched as he finally ditched his towel and joined her under the covers, his position mirroring her own. For a while they just looked at each other, an action that was strangely comfortable; just watched each other in silence, noting the soft smiles, the lack of worried creases.

When Clint finally closed his eyes she did the same, though she swore she could feel him watching her again a moment later. “Get some sleep,” she said, her lips curling further upwards. “You’ve earned it.”

Snuggling a little deeper against the pillow, with her body blissfully exhausted, her heart light and her mind relatively at ease it wasn’t long until she drifted off herself.

Tonight it was different.

After Clint had stopped fighting the overpowering exhaustion, telling himself there would be enough time to look at Natasha again tomorrow, he was out pretty deeply soon.

First that dreaded feeling of fear and unease wanted to come back when he waded through some blurry dream and started to hear this creepy faint crying of a baby again. But when he got closer, determined to find out what the hell he was seeing and remembering there every night, he didn't spot some strangers or long lost faces of a mission that had gone downhill.

He saw Natasha. She looked very young and very sweet with her hair in a bun and round, rosy cheeks. She didn't see him, she was all busy smiling at the baby in her arms. When she held it to her chest, it stopped crying immediately.

Clint couldn't help but smile too and hurried to get closer. He wanted to take a closer look, he wanted to meet the child - his baby - see how it looked and if it was a boy or a girl, if it was as beautiful as his mother... He didn't reach Natasha before the dream faded to nothingness and he couldn't help but feeling disappointed when he started awake. Then he remembered, he just had to wait a few months before meeting this baby - if everything went well - and he smiled again.

It still was all too much to comprehend, but he preferred a dream like that over that other shit gladly. Very carefully, to not wake Natasha, he leaned over her and touched her belly, just with two gently caressing fingertips, and left a kiss there. He was too sleepy to worry right now, to think about everything that could go wrong or how they would handle it. Just for a little while, he wanted to enjoy that he could think of this whole thing without fear, just with anticipation. The next morning would come soon enough.

Natasha didn’t dream, not really, or at least nothing that she could truly identify or remember. There were flashes; faces, colours, sounds, but nothing solid, nothing she could grasp. Memories, darkness, pain, pleasure. Somewhere amidst it all she subconsciously recognized Clint’s touch and everything seemed to settle, to clear.

In her dream she looked down to find him kissing her swollen belly, clearly many months into the pregnancy. His expression was one of complete infatuation and adoration. Already he loved this baby, this little being they had made together, against all odds. Would she love it too? Would she allow herself to love it, to care so much for something so fragile and helpless and dependent upon her?

He kissed her stomach again, and right then was when she felt that first stab of pain wrenching through her gut. She screamed and clutched her stomach, then she was falling, somehow slipping through Clint’s fingers as he tried to catch her...

Natasha woke with a start, her stomach churning, and she barely had time to roll over and grab the bucket she had had the foresight to put beside the bed before they’d gone out to supper last night.

Natasha seemed hectic when she moved, so Clint hurried to get out of the way, assuming she was still caught in some kind of dream. It wasn't like he couldn't take it if she was to leash out, but they both tended to blame themselves for such occurrences. After the last perfect night, he didn't want the next crisis already when it was still dawning outside.

Natasha had been very calm in her sleep before, so he assumed it was either a light nightmare or one of the really bad ones. Either way, he moved to lay back by her side and try to wake her carefully, but it turned out, it wasn't necessary. Natasha slipped away from him before he was all out of the way and leaned down the bed.

Oh. Right. That. And apparently this time it was so bad, it haunted her in her sleep.
Well, somehow they would have to get used to this. Worst case was, it would last another six months.

Clint brushed Natasha's shoulder quickly, letting her know, he was there and aware what was happening and then got up to hurry to the kitchen. After placing a new water bottle from the fridge right next to her, he sat back down and carefully, softly stroked her back, ready to help her out with anything she would need.

Natasha hated this feeling. She hated being sick. It wasn’t something she was used to as it so rarely happened to her, so these past few mornings had been particularly hellish. At least yesterday it had faded rather quickly, so she could hope that today would be a repeat of that.

Truthfully she wouldn’t remind a repeat of the entire day, as wonderful as it had been.

When she finally stopped retching she set the bucket back on the floor and tried to take a few soothing breathes. “This will stop eventually, right?” she asked. She hadn’t gotten past it last time, but then she had gotten sick even earlier in the pregnancy before. She hadn’t made it much farther along than this.

Taking a sip of the water Clint had brought her she swished it around in her mouth and spit it into the bucket before taking a smaller sip to actually swallow. “Sorry I woke you.”

"Don't apologize. It's not your fault. I've been up anyway."

Clint kept on stroking her back soothingly, ignoring the stale smell from Natasha's sickness without even blinking. They had sat through worse conditions than a little nausea really.

"We still have that tea Angelina recommended you. I'll make you some if you like."

He leaned a little closer to kiss her shoulder, just as tenderly, lightly. He wished he could do more but from all - which wasn't much to be honest - he knew about all this, it was pretty clear that Natasha couldn't escape this inconvenience. He just could be there and support her every morning.

"Your body will get used to peanut in no time, I'm sure. And even if it takes a while, I'll be always here for you, okay?"

She closed her eyes and tried to focus on his soothing touch and voice, but her stomach kept turning, threatening to rebel again. “Okay,” she accepted the offer of tea, willing to try most anything natural at that point.

For a moment she thought about talking to Angelina, but that old superstition and fear held her back from even suggesting it. Really, though, would it be so bad? The woman had already figured it out on her own, so how different would it be asking her for help rather than a doctor? It wasn’t the same as announcing it to family and friends. Which also brought to mind the phone call she knew she had to make today. She had promised to check in and keep Fury updated, and if she waited much longer for that first update he would no doubt track them down.

Groaning, Natasha flopped back onto the bed and tried to curl up into a ball under the thin sheet, a shiver running through her whole body. She hated to ask for help, it wasn’t something she had ever gotten used to, even with Clint, but it was high time she sucked it up and let him do what he could. Why make it harder on herself and deny him from helping, which he so clearly very much wanted to do. “Before you go, could you throw me some clothes?” she asked awkwardly.

Natasha was practically squirming at the sheer question, and it made him sad. By now she should know that she could be weak in front of him, that he wouldn't ever judge her for it. That nothing made him happier than helping her when she needed it.

But there wasn't anyone who understood better where this notion was coming from, why she was that way, and it already had gotten much better with time. So he didn't say anything, didn't assure her again that he would be there with anything anytime she needed it. That she should really know by now.

Instead he stopped at the cabinet and got out a soft pair of trackpants and a sweater - one of hers for a change - for her. The morning was feeling cooler than it had been in the last days, and Clint had an idea, autumn had finally arrived.

He put the things on the bed, in easy reach for Natasha, and leaned down to kiss her temple and put her messed up hair out of her face gently. It hurt, seeing her that way, sick and weak, it always did, but it would pass, and he wanted to do his best to help that process. He thought about taking the bucket to the bathroom for a second but let it be then, in case the nausea wasn't completely gone yet.

"Back in a minute, beautiful", he murmured soothingly and hurried to get to the kitchen then.

Clint got the clothes without question or comment, something Natasha was entirely grateful for. She knew it bothered him that she was still so hard pressed to get past that last little hump, but how he complied without making anything of it made it easier each time. Maybe one day it wouldn’t be so difficult.

She snorted a little at his words, knowing she looked anything but beautiful in that moment, but she too kept from commenting and let him go about his task. Slipping into the clothes he had provided she couldn’t help but smile a little at his choices. They had just been to the beach yesterday so she had expected shorts and a tank top, but while the afternoons were still hot it seemed the mornings were getting cooler, something she hadn’t taken into account. It felt good to climb into the warm, comforting clothes.

Suffering one more bought of nausea while he was gone, Natasha eventually curled back up in bed and closed her eyes, concentrating on her breathing. Maybe she should have asked him to bring in the books in that Angelina had loaned them as well.

When the tea was done, Clint brought the big cup to the bedroom and put it down on the bedside table before laying back down with Natasha, pulling the covers over his body.

"Want to sit here?" he asked gently, propping his back against the bed frame, so Natasha could use him as a pillow if she liked. That way she could always get up if the nausea came back.

When Clint returned with a large, steaming cup of tea, Natasha pushed herself up to sit, propping the pillows up behind her. She considered his offer a moment before shaking her head. She felt disgusting, sensitive and irritable and for the moment she didn’t want to be touched. She needed a little space, and she knew Clint would understand without explanation.

“Thanks,” she murmured as she picked up the cup, cradling it in her hands for a moment and letting it warm her hands. Closing her eyes she breathed in the steam before taking a sip. The warmth seemed to spread through her whole body and despite everything she smiled faintly.

Opening her eyes she looked over at Clint. “You don’t have to stay if you have things you want to do,” she said. She knew he liked to run in the mornings before it got to warm, and that boat still sat somewhere in the harbour, waiting for restoration. There was no point him wasting his vacation hovering over her while she was ill when there were much more relaxing and enjoyable things he could be doing.

"I'll leave if you need time for yourself, you know that", Clint answered after a moment of thinking.

Maybe it would have been a good idea, tiring himself out on a run, before he could start thinking too much again. Maybe he would, tomorrow, he just needed to get up earlier. Natasha awoke around fairly the same time these days, he just needed to be back in time. But there was no way in hell he would leave her alone in this state if she didn't want him to.

"Until then I'll just be the annoying mother hen and run around to get you whatever you need. I can do it naked if that helps."

He gave her a half-hearted wink and pulled the covers a little higher because now he was actually beginning to feel cold.

She knew he would give her space if she wanted it, but she wasn’t sure she did; she wasn’t sure what she wanted at all. Part of her wanted to be alone to wallow for a few minutes before pulling herself together to carry on, while another part wanted to curl up against Clint’s side and stay in bed all day. These two very opposite viewpoints were very clearly at war.

“I don’t know, it’s a little chilly in here,” she said, noting the way Clint covered up a little more despite his comment. “You’re more impressive to watch when it’s not so cold.”

She couldn’t help teasing him despite everything. The warm tea was already helping to revive her, though her empty stomach was still churning away and threatening to revolt again. She felt it might settle without further incident, though.

"I'll just have to cover up the most important parts."

Clint returned her smile and curled under the covers a little more, forming a comfortable little nest to stay warm in. He would have loved to invite Natasha in but until she felt better this morning, it was better to stay on distance.

He watched her from half closed lids and yawned a little into the soft cotton of the covers. He didn't think he could sleep again, but dozing for a little while, while Natasha let her own body rest and find back its balance, wasn't the worst idea. She didn't look like she wanted to talk right now.

"Just tell me when you need me, okay?" he mumbled, keeping the worst of worry out of his voice somehow.

“That sort of defeats the purpose,” Natasha countered.

Sipping slowly at her tea, she watched Clint get settled again. He still looked so tired and she wondered if the nightmares had kept him up again. If so, at least they hadn’t been the disorienting and violent type if the only harm done was a little sleep loss. He seemed in good enough spirits, though, so she hoped that meant he had made it through one night without being haunted.

“I will,” she agreed, and she was determined to try to do so. Shifting her mug to one hand, she ran the fingers of the other gently through his hair. He looked rather adorable all curled up like that and she made sure to commit the picture to memory.

Settling a little more against the headboard, Natasha closed her eyes and let the warmth of the tea and the comfortable silence envelop her. The worst of the morning seemed to be over.

Natasha didn't steer for a while and breathed calmer, deeper, so Clint assumed, she was getting better and allowed himself to drift a little. He tried to get back to that fuzzy feeling of hugging Natasha's body in the morning, snuggling close to her belly before her stomach had protested. It had felt... nice. Comforting. He just had to remind himself to not do it in the middle of the night.

"Sorry that I woke you", he murmured, sleep thick again in his voice. "It was just... I dreamed of us... of the little one."

The tea definitely seemed to be helping, and by the time she had finished half the mug Natasha felt that she wouldn’t need her bucket any more today. All in all, while it certainly was an awful way to wake up, she reassured herself that if that was the worst she had to deal with over the next couple of weeks, at least, then she could handle it.

Her hand in Clint’s hair stilled at his words before moving to rub gently over her stomach. It was a bit funny to think that they could share the same dream, but then considering how much this would be weighing on their minds then it probably should come as no surprise. She thought of her own dream, of the happiness Clint seemed to radiate as he touched her very pregnant belly before the sickness had twisted everything and woke her up. She hoped to see that smile in real life some day, to live out that little bit of her dream.

“Tell me about it?” she asked quietly.

Clint only realized how comforting that gentle hand touching him had been when it was gone. Yearning to feel it again, he leaned his head back to look up from his little nest to Natasha. When he saw her touching her belly with that thoughtful expression, his heart dropped a little. What did he expect, though? They wouldn't know for sure until the day of birth if everything would be alright. Even if chances were really good that it would work out... Natasha would live with that fear throughout the next months.

He reached out from his little cocoon to place his hand on hers and got that smile on his lips that still was so hard for her to show. It was his job to carry them both through this. Natasha already had something to carry.

"I loved how you looked holding the little one", he said just as quietly, carefully, but still with a hint of that anticipation the dream had left. "Wish I could have seen her face... I mean, or his... You looked so happy. Hard to believe it's only a few months until this happens..."

Her gaze shifted to Clint when his hand covered hers and she offered a faint smile in return. If he hadn’t wanted this she would have still tried to get through it on her own, but she was so fucking glad he was in this with her. There was very little she truly needed in life, but right now she needed him.

She listened to his words, but more than that it was his tone that she paid attention to. He was being cautious, careful of her emotions, but she could tell that he was excited. This was no longer just something they would get through, nor something they could try to avoid until things were more sure. He wanted this baby, really wanted it. Natasha wasn’t sure whether to be terrified or excited.

“A few months,” she breathed with a shaky laugh. “It’s still so hard to believe.” Even with the obvious changes to her body and the affects it was having on her, she was still having a hard time connecting it all and accepting that in only a few months, if all went well, they would have a baby. They had made this, together. As many lives as they had both taken over the years, this was their chance to bring one into the world, a little piece of both of them.

Natasha’s smile grew a little more genuine. “You think it’s a girl?”

"Maybe? I guess..."

Clint's cheeks turned a deep shade of red. No one could know, of course, and it was definitely stupid to wish for something. They would be happy to have that baby either way, thankful for this miracle if everything worked out. But if he was being completely honest with himself, he always saw Natasha with a little girl on her arms when he allowed himself to think about it.

"I mean, it will be beautiful and perfect and everything no matter what."

He threaded his fingers through Natasha's and drew small caressing lines on her belly as if he could already touch the little life that was waiting for them in there.

Natasha felt a swell of emotions as she thought about it. A little girl. Would she have her mother’s curls or her father’s straight here? Would her eyes be blue? Green? Would she be strong and brave and adventurous?

Looking down at their entwined hands on her belly, Natasha felt her eyes starting to sting with the overwhelming emotions. It didn’t matter, none of that mattered. All that mattered was that she have a better childhood than either of her parents. It was easy to do better than Clint’s, but Natasha’s... she had had parents that loved her once. It wasn’t until she had lost them that her she lost all that love and innocence, and considering her and Clint’s profession, that was a very real possibility for their child as well if things didn’t change.

What were they going to do?

They had time to worry about that later. Right now she had to try her best to keep the worrying to a minimum, at least until they were well out of the danger zone.

“And spoiled no matter what,” she said with the hint of a smirk. Setting her mug aside, she moved her free hand now to Clint’s head, fingers moving gently through his hair again.

"Definitely."

Clint had spotted the tears in Natasha's eyes and tried to keep the mood light. Every moment they didn't have to spend with worry right now was precious. But he slipped his arm around her hips, softly, without holding her tight, to let her know, he was there if she wanted to talk more serious things.

Until then spending the morning with all these little precious dreams seemed to be the best help for Natasha's rude awakenings. He pressed against her hand with a quiet hum, enjoying the tenderness of the moment between... well, the three of them.

"It's not too early to buy her a bow yet, is it?"

Natasha was grateful for the gesture, for the offer, even if she didn’t take him up on it right now. It was just a comfort to know that she could, that they could talk about the harder stuff whenever she was ready. She hoped he knew that it worked both ways.

Smiling when he leaned into her touched she continued to work her fingers through his hair, gently mashing his scalp from time to time. “Maybe a little,” she replied. She didn’t even want to tell anyone yet, so buying anything this early felt like tempting the fates, even if it was just a joke. “We don’t know what her favourite colour will be.”

What if it wasn’t a girl? It still felt better using ‘her’ instead of ‘it’, like the life growing inside of her wasn’t human, was just some thing. If they had to change the term later then they would get used to it then. “Unless you mean the type you can tie in her hair.”

Clint chuckled.

"I guess we can start with that bow and evolve from there. But she can totally have a onesie with a bow on it, right?"

He was exaggerating a little, maybe, just a little. Then again, a baby needed clothes, right? It definitely couldn't hurt teaching little one the basics soon enough... He chuckled again at his own thoughts and turned his hand kiss Natasha's hand.

"I better let you do the shopping."

Dancing in the Dark (for farmboyhawk)

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