study_in_scarlet | Dancing in the Dark (for farmboyhawk)

Well, this time Clint could hide his blush behind his glass at least.

"Every excuse to get my hands on the fruits around here", he chuckled after another sip from his glass. "It's a circus thing, I think. On our travels through the countries, Barney and me often stole our food from the nearest field to have something to eat at all. All that frozen and modified shit you get in the cities in the states or on a S.H.I.E.L.D. base, you know... It's always nice to be in regions where you can eat that stuff fright from a tree."

He remembered that stupid fantasy he had told Natasha about, about having his own farm with fields and dogs and all, and suddenly he wondered if that actually was in his future. It wasn't exactly a dog, but they had started on that pet thing already, and if fate was good, they would have a family soon, a family he certainly didn't want to have in his neighborhood.

He didn't even know how to handle it at all at this point, admittedly, but that was something he was certain about. They would need a new place to live. Natasha and him still were too young to think about retiring, and he was pretty sure, she'd want that as little as him at this point, but who knew how things would look in a few years?

Getting ahead of ourselves, are we, Barton?

He shook his head a little to get rid of these pointless speculations and put the half-empty glass away for the moment. Plenty of time to think and talk about that in the months to come. No need to ruin the mood right now with too serious stuff.

"I guess I better clean up the kitchen."

Some men were sexy, some were cute, and some were just plain goofy, but Clint Barton happened to be each of these things at any given time. Right now, with him looking a bit bashful at the praise Natasha had given him he was definitely adorable, but give him five minutes in the bedroom and he was beyond sexy. It was a mystery how he managed to pull them all off without even trying.

Pushing her plate aside, Natasha took a sip of her drink and propped her elbow on the table and her chin in her hand as she listened to him talk. S.H.I.E.L.D. provided nutritious, healthy meals for their employees, but they didn’t spend any extra in importing anything special, and nutritious didn’t always taste good. Then, of course, there were Clint and Natasha’s own eating habits when left to their own devices. Take-out and whatever is quick and comes in a package or can... not really the best either. Maybe this whole ‘eat local and cook fresh’ movement would be good for them in multiple ways.

“I’ll be there in a moment to help you,” she said, wanting to just sit a moment longer and let her food settle before getting to her feet again.

She couldn’t help but wonder how long this would last. They only had another week, maybe two, before she would absolutely have to contact Nick and update him on their status. She had been prepared to argue her case to get more time for Clint, but she had not expected this turn of events. She would have to come clean, and then what? She couldn’t even begin to guess how Nick would take the news, nor how he would want to handle it. She presumed he would insist they return so he could have his own doctors monitor her progress, but they idea of going back to headquarters now, of going through this in such a sterile and cold environment after spending time somewhere so warm and inviting... it wasn’t a welcome thought.

She wondered how far along she had to be before flying was out of the question...

Natasha seemed lost in thought, so Clint left her alone for a while. Starting the dishwasher wasn't exactly much of an issue, and cleaning the counters gave him something to do. Something to help keep his own mind from wandering into dark territories again.

There was no imminent reason for that right now, why work himself up? It had been a very turbulent but in the end a very nice day, he didn't want that ruined. At least he had enough composure back by now to keep himself distracted successfully, mostly with making out plans for the next days. A few things that Natasha and him should look into, chores to keep their little home here running, and hopefully some more time of relaxing on the beach before the days would become too chilly for that. Better. One step after the other.

When the room didn't look like there had been a hurricane anymore, he washed the rest of cooking off his own body in the shower and laid out now towels for Natasha. With only a towel around his hips and his skin flushed from a little too hot water, he returned to the living room.

"Didn't know if you want to soak", he murmured, turning his chair from before around so he could astraddle it rather than half falling asleep on the table. More and more he did feel how long the day really had been. "I could set up a tub for you if you like."

Natasha had full intentions of helping Clint with the kitchen clean-up, but by the time she’d roused herself out of her musings he was already done and heading to the washroom. She thought of joining him in the shower but her limbs felt heavy and she didn’t even notice she was dozing off until she heard Clint return to the room.

Lifting her head from her hand, she gave him a sleepy grin when he straddled his chair despite the fact that he was wearing only a towel. “I think I would just fall asleep in it,” she said, leaning back in her chair. “I’ll just clean up at the sink.” The quicker she was clean the quicker they could just go to bed. It was still fairly early but it felt like they had been awake for several days straight, and considering how little they really had been sleeping lately, fighting sleep now would probably be counterproductive. “Just as soon as I can make myself move.”

"We can make a deal. You get your pretty behind in the bathroom..."

Clint threw her a small boyish grin from where he was leaning on the back rest of the chair, not too enthusiastic with moving himself. But the perspective of a soft mattress sounded just too nice right now.

"And I give the bed a makeover in the meantime."

He had been meaning to change the sheets anyway, and after the oil massage before, it was about high time.

"Up, woman. Or you'll wake up with hell of a stiff neck tomorrow and we can pull off a perfect partner look."

Still grinning, he got up to lean over Natasha and place a kiss on her forehead and quickly fled to the bedroom then. After all the teasing today, he wouldn't put it behind her to give him a reminder of how nasty her elbows could be.

The bed soon looked a lot more inviting. Clint realized without surprise that Angelina had apparently washed the reserve sheets too, since they smelled faintly off lavender and citrus, not like years in a cupboard. He made a mental note to invite her for diner soon for her all her efforts.

It was a little early to go to bed, definitely, but with the heavy curtains pulled close, the room was dark enough to let exhaustion take over. He left the towel on the same pile in the corner where the old beddings were and stretched out on his stomach with a content sigh while he was waiting for Natasha. It was stupid, really, they were secret agents and all that shit, they were used to sleep on rocks and sand but... There wasn't much that beat a fresh-made bed for comfort.

It felt good to be able to move and lie mostly without pain again, and the last of complaints from his back would hopefully be gone by tomorrow. Right now he felt only like crashing for like 12 hours in a row.

Natasha pursed her lips to one side, worrying the inside of her cheek between her teeth as she pretended to contemplate this offer. Clean sheets to slide in between definitely sounded good, as did just laying down in general. She just had to get up first.

Making a playful swat at Clint as he gave her a quick kiss and ran, she missed him completely, not that she was trying very hard. Shaking her head with a smile on her lips, she placed her hands on the table and pushed up to her feet, pleased to find she didn’t feel dizzy this time as she had earlier in the day. Ah, the healing properties of a good meal.

Making her way to the washroom she shed her clothes and dumped them in the laundry basket. Washing the flour and oil and the remains of the day from her skin, she let her hair down and brushed it out until it fell in soft waves around her shoulders. Once she’d finished in the bathroom she collected her bucket and headed for the bedroom where a very pleasant image awaited her. Clint was stretched out on his stomach on the freshly changed bed, his perfect butt on clear display and looking very bitable. It she wasn’t so drained she would have definitely taken it as an invitation.

“How does your back feel now?” she asked as she set the bucket on the floor beside the bed and climbed up beside him. She could easily finish that massage before sleep, just maybe sans the oil so as not to mess up the clean sheets.

"It'll be okay. You can always torture me some more tomorrow."

Clint turned his head to her, lazily propped on his arms, and gave her a smile that matched his tiredly slurred words. Natasha was the only person he gladly accepted as his personal torturer, but it could wait.

It was a warm enough evening so she preferred to go commando just like him and he had really no objections at all to that. Now that they knew what was going on, he was a lot more observant to the small changes in her body, but they certainly made her no less gorgeous at all. Fortunately he was too tired to let that have any effect on him right now. Natasha was just as exhausted as he was, and as comfortable as it was right now, he didn't sleep well on his stomach...

He reached out gently to run his fingertips through her hair and over her cheek, but no, that didn't work all that well yet from this position, so he dropped his arm again with a grunt.

"I'm good. Let's just try to get a little rest."

Natasha smiled fondly at Clint’s sleepily slurred words as she stretched out against his side. She couldn’t help running one hand over the perfectly sculpted muscles of his back any more than she could resist placing a few kisses along his shoulder. Eventually, though, she rolled away, wanting to feel the crisp, cool sheets against her skin and bury her face in the soft pillow.

“Good night,” she murmured, sleep already tugging at her. It had been a long few days, and while everything was far from settled and there was still a lot to be afraid of, she felt relaxed and content enough in the moment to drift off with little resistance.

Her perfect body tucked against him felt as overwhelming as ever, even when he was half asleep, and he enjoyed every second of it, every soft touch of her lips sending goose bumps down his spine. His lips caught hers shortly before she turned away, a short sigh of disappointment on them, but it was okay. More time and chance for cuddling tomorrow, when they wouldn't be both that drained anymore.

He drifted somewhere between relaxation and dozing while he watched her, as long as he could still keep his eyes open. She was gone soon and looked so peaceful, so still in this moment, as if all the catastrophes of the last days hadn't even happened. The bright light, filtered through the curtains, colored the room and her pale skin into a faint glowing orange, her hair floating around her shoulders was a flame.

Clint longed to reach out and touch it but he didn't want to disturb her, not when she finally got a desperately needed break from everything. But he watched her, watched her roll on her back in her sleep, watched the perfect light on her skin and her full rosy lips slightly opened. The calm rising and falling of her chest, the delicious curve of her breast. And much lower, nearly invisible in this position, the changing surface of her no longer completely flat belly.

There... He wasn't quite used to the sight no longer producing only fear and dread in him but this strange, stupid, nearly ecstatic anticipation. Suddenly he found himself wanting to kiss exactly that little spot, and it was even harder to hold back from that. Stupid, careless, naive. He would only make himself hurt so much more if he allowed such deep feelings for this... this whole thing yet, if it turned out to be doomed in the end.

Unfortunately he had no idea how to stop it. Whenever he let his eyes wander to Natasha's belly, he saw that damn photo on his mind, nothing but two shapeless blobs really, but soon... Maybe when they did the next ultrasound already... It scared him a little how much he wanted this to go right, in spite of all this fears. How much he wanted this little peanut in Natasha's body to grow, see what it would become. If it would be a little girl maybe, with Natasha's beautiful red curls and...

But that was a too scary thought to lose himself in, and his mind fled into finally a more sleep-like state. That imaginary baby in his thoughts didn't stop growing though. It grew rapidly. It wasn't a redhead after all, it had darker skin and hair. It actually didn't look a bit like any of them.

The fast motion movie in Clint's head went on, until he was faced with a teenager he once might have known. Sharp features, thick eyebrows, early shaped body. Natasha's current state apparently still occupied him, because the girl who couldn't even hit fifteen, sported a big swollen pregnancy belly. As she caught him looking, she smiled at him, like the girl in the hospital earlier, but it didn't look happy. Her eyes were dead.

She had a knife in her hand, with a bloody blade, and Clint faintly remembered that this very blade had left that one scar between his shoulder blades. But this couldn't be right, he didn't know her... Nor any of the young girls surrounding her, all of them too provocative dressed and dolled up for their age, all of them scarred by torture, fear and desperation.

Except he did, didn't he? Maybe not in his conscious mind, maybe his head refused the details of the mission which had brought him to this beautiful sunny country in the first place. But his terrified heart remembered when the walls of alertness and mental training fell.

Will you help us, Signore? Have you come to save us?

There was also Hill there, and God knew that wasn't a face he didn't need to see in his fucking Holidays. But Hill was a sure bet if you needed someone to ruin the day, of course. So of course she would be there, giving him the famous side-eyed look because Barton, stupid-reckless-inappropriate-insufficient-emotional Barton was fucking up the mission again and why was he still here again? He should be back out on the ocean with his damn boat, watching his target instead of messing with foreign business.

This is police work. And you're compromised. Get your ass out of the city. Or I'll have you extracted right away and you can write reports for the next five years.

Sea water burning in an open cut to the bone like acid. Endless weeks out in the open, living off what he fished out of the water. More often than not he had puked it back out before it could poison him too much. And these dead eyes, a shrill scream of a newborn piercing a hot summer night. Blood on his hands.

There was salt on his lips too, on his tongue, and that was real, and he supposed he was crying, but his mind wouldn't get any more lucid than realizing that. His body was obviously of the opinion he needed sleep, even if it was the bad kind.

A dead cat on his porch next time he came home, weeks after. And of course, because things were always fucked up when he slept, it was a black one, though that wasn't right either, he was sure. He could nearly grasp it, nearly recall everything if he just wanted it... But oh boy, didn't he.

You can help us, signore, can't you? You have to. You will...

Searing hot pain crawling down his back, and maybe that was real too because he was a stupid fuck and had made it to fall asleep on his stomach. And now his body was so tense and frozen, it wouldn't even let him turn or startle enough to rip his mind out of this stupid dream.

Well, there went a night of good rest.

Natasha slept deeply, too deep to even dream, though the dreams would likely come in the morning as sleep slowly faded. Or would have had she not been awoken by Clint’s struggle so close to her. She felt him move, heard his breath catch, heard the noises that were soft yet clearly from distress. She knew him too well now to not recognize the signs of a nightmare, and though her mind was still hazy with sleep she rolled toward him, moulding her body along one side.

“I’m right here, baby,” she whispered, kissing his shoulder and wrapping her arm around him. She could feel her stomach waking up and preparing to protest but for right now it was okay. It wouldn’t last, though; she could tell already.

Clint awoke startling, jerking away in the first moment, because a warning whisper in the back of his head told him that it wasn't wise to let her touch him. That was how you ended up with a knife in your back and coughing blood for two weeks.

But then it was Natasha's voice and Natasha's well-known shape pressing into his, her smell and warmth... And finally he could actually feel himself back in this room that had been just out of reach in this gruesome last minutes.

His cheeks were still rough and damp but he could always blame that on too much sweating. He turned to her anyway and wrapped his arm around her, hiding his face against her shoulder while the fear, the anger, the disgust from already fading memories passed. Slowly. Very slowly.

"Are you okay?" He had no idea why he asked, that damn dream hadn't even been about her, but he had to know anyway, he had to know she was feeling alright and everything was like the evening before, that there was still light and hope... "The baby, I mean... Are you alright?"

Natasha pulled her arm back when he jerked away, not wanting to make him feel trapped or give him cause to try to fight her before reality set back in. She could easily defend herself, of course, and they both knew it, but that wouldn’t assuage his guilt if he did end up hurting her in any way.

“It’s okay, you’re safe. We’re both safe,” she said, hoping her voice could be the lifeline he needed to follow back. It seemed to work and soon he was pulling her into his embrace and burying his face against her.

When he spoke it seemed pretty clear what he had been dreaming about: she suspected his fears about the baby and all his worries about her had come out in his dreams. It made sense with what she knew and with everything she didn’t know. “We’re alright,” she assured him, this time the plural meaning her and the baby, and damn if that didn’t feel weird. She wasn’t just an “I” anymore, she was a “we”. “I can already tell it’s going to be another rough morning, but we’re okay.” Maybe the sickness wasn’t such a bad thing; it was normal, and as long as she was sick then maybe everything would continue to be okay. It was strange logic but comforting somehow.

Right... Right, the sickness. Nasty but normal. Everything was normal, Natasha was okay... Her and the baby... Getting more awake by the second, Clint quickly realized that he wasn't doing well today with that whole distancing-himself from something that wasn't even a baby, not yet. Maybe it would fade when that pile of bad emotions choking him from his dream would fade, but right now he was just fucking thankful that things were okay. More or less, as much as could be with Natasha feeling sick again...

Oh, right. He quickly let go off her, just carefully caressing her shoulder and arm now, in case she had to go for her bucket quickly, and closed his eyes with a shudder. Everything okay... They were doing good, better than in the whole last days to be exact. No reason to panic.

"Thank you."

He felt a little sick himself right now, but he could feel it slipping away, and it was thanks to Natasha he hadn't had to face even more of these pictures that had already sunk back into oblivion. He was awake enough now to regret that she hadn't gotten more rest in fact.

"Sorry I woke you."

Natasha actually chuckled despite everything at how quickly he let go of her when she mentioned the oncoming sickness. She knew it wasn’t because he didn’t want her getting sick on him, but because he didn’t want to squeeze her too tight or prevent her from moving if the urge to vomit struck her quickly, but it was amusing nonetheless.

Curling up on her side, facing him, she ran her fingertips gently over his cheek, brushing the errant salty drops from his skin. Could be just sweat, but she was pretty sure it wasn’t. “It’s okay,” she said, resting her hand against his face. “Do you want to talk about it?” She wouldn’t push him if he didn’t, but she wanted him to know that the option was always there.

"I don't want to", Clint huffed, with another shudder, and pressed his lips against her palm when just a few fragments of this last dream came back and left just as quickly.

The walls he had built around certain details of that Italy missions was so thick, he could hardly penetrate it even if he tried. From what he could remember by now, though, he was pretty sure, this wouldn't be the last dream like that. Especially with what had suddenly taken Natasha's and his relationship to a whole new level, this subject would come up again and again. It wouldn't get better if he worked himself up every few nights just to suppress it even deeper then.

Unfortunately he didn't really have an idea what to do against it.

"I guess I should but... They fade too fast."

Without letting go off Natasha's hand, he laid back against the mattress and grimaced a little. Nope, tensing up for hours in a position he wasn't used to, hadn't exactly help hes back issues from yesterday.

"Don't know where they're going. Didn't even know I'm that good with blacking out stuff. Maybe I should pull a few S.H.I.E.L.D. files from the network."

He shrugged a little, not sure at all if he really should. Then again, he didn't even have to consider it further anyway.

"Doubt they'd give me anything right now, though. And if they do, it'll just go to my med file again for them to dissect."

She knew what he meant, knew that whatever was haunting his dreams was not something he wanted to discuss, but she appreciated that he didn’t shut her down with a flat out ‘no’. As much as he didn’t want to he was willing to open up to her, and that meant a lot.

She noticed his wince when he laid back down and realised she still had some work to do as the nightmare had clearly aggravated the damage he had done. She listened to him talk. More and more he sounded disenchanted with S.H.I.E.L.D., and she had the feeling that if she told him she never wanted to go back that he would be more than happy to quit. Some days she was pretty sure he was only still there because of her, but it wasn’t something she had been able to bring herself to really ask him flat out.

“You’re obviously still tense, so either lay back on your stomach or sit up so I can work it out, and no arguing this time,” she said, pushing herself up to sit. Her stomach was still behaving for now but she could feel it beginning to churn. “Why don’t you tell me what you do remember. If you remember a little more each day maybe we can piece this together.”

She had her doubts that would be a good thing, though. Clearly he had a lot of fond memories of this place and maybe dredging up whatever he was blocking out would change that, but if it was so bad wouldn’t he have an aversion to this place as well? There had to be something more to it, and if he was going to continue to have these nightmares then they should try to figure them out.

Clint knew that tone in Natasha's voice, knew when it was pointless to argue indeed, so he obeyed reluctantly, sitting up and turning his back to her. He didn't like being a burden for her when she was already feeling sick, but she wouldn't let him out of this either way. And well, he probably still deserved it for being plain stupid yesterday.

Her question though, that was a whole different story that he still wasn't sure he wanted to remember or share. That alone was unusual, because Natasha pretty much knew about all his missions, at least vaguely. But this one had seldom come up, and not only because she had been off on her own duty at that time. He had told her just a few days ago how much he had missed her in these months here, and that was true, but why...

"Hill didn't want you to come with me."

He frowned a little when the words came out of his mouth before he had even thought about it much. If he thought about it, it would only slip away again, that slimy deep black, sharp teethed eel slipping from his conscious mind like it had happened for years now. But if he just tried to piece together a few fragments of his dream... That could work indeed. Even if he didn't want to.

Running from his past was a bad habit he'd indulged in long enough. With the new, their biggest challenge that Natasha and him were facing, he couldn't do that anymore. He needed his body, his brains and his soul intact for this, instead of running around like a zombie every few days because he just couldn't fucking sleep right.

"Right... That was one of our first encounters back then. Fury had just made her God, and if she said something, even Coulson had to shut up. I asked her to send you along with me, because it sounded just so stupid, so dull. You know, spending months on a boat and waiting for some mafia guy to maybe meet with an old HYDRA cell for weapons. First I thought, they still wanted to fuck with me, for bringing you in and all, even years after. But..."

He shrugged a little and hissed with another grimace. Bad idea.

"It wasn't about that guy I think. Maria knew me pretty well at that point already. She knew, I had that talent to fall into trouble that wasn't even my mission. And I just had to go ashore a few times, to not go completely nuts out there in the water. Maria didn't like it of course. But this city here, this area always was pretty safe. The main trouble happens in Catania. Guess they thought, they'd be on the safe side if they let me catch my breath from time to time here... Still Maria wouldn't send you with me, though even Coulson thought it was better."

Again Coulson, and actually that was another painful subject he didn't want to bring up at ass o'clock in the morning. Hell, he hadn't even come to talk about what this thing was his superiors had tried to keep him from. Or why the hell he couldn't remember it. And still he was already feeling like shit.

Without surprise he saw that he had started scratching these small little cuts from his own fingernails and Liho's claws all over his arms without even realizing. So many long months, and sometimes it still stabbed him ice cold from behind. More than ever he wished, Coulson would have still been available to call in such moments. He wouldn't have hesitated to help him remember without judging him.

"Guess they knew I would only get you in trouble even back then or something."

Although she could tell that he wanted to argue Clint knew better and soon was sitting up so she could get at his back. Positioning herself behind him she started at his neck and worked as gently yet efficiently as she could.

His opening sentence was a surprise and her hands faltered for a brief second. Why would Hill specifically want her absent from this mission? He must have meant it another way. Keeping silent she just let him talk, let him work it out for himself. In the end he didn’t really have an answer, and she was left with more questions than anything. She had been elsewhere at the time, but not the entire time, and her mission hadn’t been anything someone else couldn’t have covered. She could have easily accompanied Clint on this one had Hill seen fit, but for some reason she had made sure that didn’t happen.

Of course the mention of Coulson just made everything worse, and Natasha momentarily abandoned the massage and wrapped her arms around Clint instead, pressing her lips to the space between his shoulder blades. “You were the one that got me out of trouble,” she said, nuzzling against his warm skin. “Maybe she thought I would be too much of a distraction on a mission that held very little stimulation.”

Clint shivered when Natasha's lips hit his skin, but unlike most of the times, it wasn't out of pleasure or excitement. For a second he could see it clearly, knew where this one, very faint scar came from. But as soon as he tried to concentrate on it, it was gone, with only the stale metallic taste of blood left in his mouth, and that dreadful cold feeling of past horrors in his gut.

"Right there."

He reached back, relieved to feel that it worked a lot better after Natasha had had her hands on him, and rubbed that bright, insensible patch of skin he so seldom remembered, simply because it was right in a blind spot.

"That's where I can't piece it together. This doesn't come from a fat incompetent mafia dealer. Hell, that guy probably shat himself when he saw me for the first time and left for Tansania or another safer place. Never heard of him again. I know I've stumbled into something else here, something where Hill didn't want me in from the start, and you even less, but I can't grab it. Not yet."

He leaned back into her embrace with a sign and ran his hands softly up and down her thighs, letting her know how good it felt to have her close after such a night. To have someone to confide in.

"Give me one or two nights of sleeping shitty more and maybe I can come up with the rest, I guess. I just know it wasn't pretty."

He turned his head to kiss Natasha's temple and sighed quietly.

"I'm good, red, thanks. I need to remember more often how good a therapist you are."

Natasha leaned back a little and examined the scar under his fingertips. She remembered that scar, of course; she also remembered being livid when she returned from her own mission to find Clint had been injured. She hadn’t been given many details, and while the thought of hacking into the mission files had come to mind she had pushed it off. If he wanted her to know he would tell her.

She hadn’t considered that it wasn’t that easy.

Holding him close against her she offered what comfort she could with her embrace. She knew better than anyone what it was to have memories so close yet just out of reach. There were things from her past she didn’t remember, memories that had been taken from her, others that had been implanted to take their place. There were times she wasn’t sure if any of her childhood was real, but she had gotten past it all enough that most nights the dreams didn’t keep her up. Most nights.

“One of my many talents,” she said, kissing his neck, then his shoulder before resting her chin there. “And my door is always open for you.” She wanted to listen to him, wanted him to open up to her, and it meant more than she could say that he did without her pressing him. “Do you think you can get back to sleep?” She didn’t even know what time it was, but considering how early they had gone to bed last night she predicted an early morning anyhow. Maybe, if her stomach cooperated, they could get a walk in before it got too hot. Or they could go and claim their spot on the beach, maybe try to find an umbrella somewhere to sit under for a break from the sun.

"Early morning sleep is not exactly helpful lately. I think I'll acclimate a little more and take a siesta later."

Clint nuzzled his cheek against her, enjoying the moment, the closeness that felt so damn good after the emotional roller coaster yesterday. His hands rested softly on her arms, caressing her softly without holding her, in case she had to move away fast. Judging from the pale color of her cheeks, it probably wouldn't take too long.

"How are you holding up? Need water or something?"

Natasha thought she could be happy just holding him like this for a couple of hours, especially after the past two days of tension, but she knew that wasn’t in the cards. Her stomach was protesting and she knew it wouldn’t be long before it revolted completely.

“Since I’m already up I think I will just go wait out the inevitable,” she said, kissing him again before reluctantly letting go. Tying her hair back out of the way she headed for the bathroom.

Since they were already up, Clint could as well take care of the necessary. Just as lazily dressed as yesterday he went to the kitchen, always with an ear to the bathroom, in case Natasha needed help, and prepared breakfast for Liho.

Even while he was still on it, he heard the familiar meowing outside and shook his head a little, rolling his eyes. Much too used to it already. He'd have to talk to Angelina sooner or later about little one, make plans for when they were leaving. His housekeeper would hopefully keep an eye on her, that would make the good-bye a little easier. Somehow he tended to stumble into certain caretaker situations lately, without really knowing how it had happened...

This time he made very sure that there wasn't anything breakable or eatable in the living room before he let little one in. He could have fed her outside of course, but since Natasha was already hugging the toilet again, maybe she would feel a little better with the kitten near.

It was too early and Natasha probably too sick, so he didn't bother with breakfast for them, only got two new water bottles ready and then busied himself a little with sweeping a small layer off dust from the furniture. And of course there was already kitten hair too.

"You could really clean up after yourself, you know", he grumbled in Liho's direction but wasn't rewarded with more than a twitch of her tail.

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.

Natasha was gone longer than the day before and though Clint really did try not to worry and coddle her, after a while he grew restless.

"You behave", he growled at Liho but still didn't get much of a response. Fortunately he found that ringing ball the kitten had played with in a corner and rolled it in her direction for after breakfast. That way he could hear at least if the little devil was up to no good again.

But then his attention was solely on Natasha. He didn't want to suffocate her with too much worry and quietly knocked instead of just entering.

"Need a little help there, red?"

Dancing in the Dark (for farmboyhawk)

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