study_in_scarlet | Dancing in the Dark (for farmboyhawk)

They didn’t get a lot of time off together, at least not enough to make a trip away worthwhile, so for this one weekend they decided to stay in the city and play tourist for the day.

They had started with a walk through Central Park before grabbing an early lunch at one of the city’s many street vendors and then wandering through the American Museum of Natural history. Natasha found the Hall of Minerals fascinating while Clint had gotten a kick out of all the dinosaur bones. They both enjoyed laying under the big blue whale with all the normal people.

Afterwards they went to a nice restaurant for supper, blending into the crowd of normal couples as best they could and Natasha actually forgot if she was playing a role or being herself as they finished their wine and shared their desserts.

“Thank you,” she said sincerely as they left the restaurant, stepping back into the cool night air. Nearby a busker played guitar and sang with surprising melody and soul, barely seeming to notice as people threw change into his open case, so caught up was he in his music. 

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Well, I'm not opposed to see it a while longer, but you've got a point."

Clint used his teeth again, to playfully pull on the edge of that top still riding somewhere under Natasha's breasts but forced himself to sigh up with a small sigh then. No tempting.

"Back in a second."

He stopped by the bathroom just long enough for a quick wipeover of the mess on his skin and came back with a small and a big towel then, handing the small one to Natasha to clean herself once she was out of all these naughty, equally messed up clothes. The big one he spread over the impressively wet spot they had left on the sheets, actively fighting that proud new hint of arousal rearing its head at the sight. They had all time in the world.

With the bed at least comfortable enough for the night, he laid back down and curled on his side, tired but satisfied as could be, to wait for Natasha joining him again.

Natasha swatted at him playfully when he teased her again and just continued to grin after him a moment when he left the room before removing her other shoe and pushing herself up to her feet. Draping the towel Clint handed her over one shoulder, she undid the laces of her top and let it fall to the floor, followed soon thereafter by the garter belt. Last she removed the stockings, careful not to damage them; the whole ensemble had been a hit so it was definitely something to keep in mind for another time. Gathering the lot up she put them in a pile beside the laundry basket to be handwashed later.

Joining Clint on the bed once more, she stretched out on her back beside him, making herself comfortable. Smirking over at him, she patted her chest in invitation if he wanted to reclaim the pillow she had made him vacate a few minutes ago.

Clint's eyes lit up at the invitation and he hurried to move, not caring the least that he had to look like an idiot. Only Natasha was here to see, and for her it really wasn't a secret how much he loved it to lay with her like that. He tried at least to settle down carefully, turn his head in a way that wouldn't leave certain already reddened parts in touch with that scruff on his cheeks. She would be sensitive tomorrow as it was.

"Probably should be shaving soon", he murmured, a little embarrassed. There were certain things he just tended forget when he was on Holiday.

It was comfortable enough anyway, so much that he felt sleepy in no time, in fact. But he fought it bravely and rather concentrated on caressing Natasha's side and leaving a tender, harmless kiss on the soft valley of her breasts in between. She smelled of what they had just done and he loved it.

As much as he had enjoyed these certain clothes, this was still how he preferred her for nights like this. When he felt nothing but soft, smooth skin wherever they touched and her heart was beating softly right against his ear. There were some places all around the world he could always find shelter in, like here, on this Island, but this here, with her... This really was home for him.

Clint’s reaction was actually pretty adorable, and Natasha loved the way his eyes lit up at such a simple thing. With the world wide scale their jobs often took on, it was always good to remember that it was the simple things in life that really mattered.

Slipping one arm around him, she lightly brushed the hair at his temples with one finger. It didn’t escape her notice how carefully he laid his head upon her, her well-being never far from his mind. “You’re on vacation. A little scruff never hurt anyone,” she said, sliding her fingers down to brush over the stubble on his cheek. She loved it when he was clean shaven, but there was also a different appeal to that prickly stubble against certain parts her body.

With her other arm she traced lazy patterns on his shoulder and bicep as he softly caressed her skin. Kissing the top of his head, she lay her own back on the pillow and closed her eyes, a content sigh escaping her lips. No matter what the world threw at them, if they could end the day like this, more often than not, then Natasha was sure the days would be easy enough to face.

"I'll hold you to that."

Clint chuckled lightly, and this time the tiredness in his voice couldn't be mistaken. Only when he felt his hand lay lazily more on Natasha's side than moving, he realized, his eyes were falling close. He supposed it was probably better to allow it since they had planned the trip to the vet tomorrow and he really should be kind of awake for driving Italian streets. And they would have much time left for just cuddling and enjoying each other's presence near left in days to come.

"Dropping out on you here again", he murmured, forcing half a lid open. "Just kick me or something if I get too heavy."

She smiled at that sleepy note in his voice and settled her hand on his arm, more than ready for a little shuteye herself. “If you get too heavy you know I’ll have no problem removing you,” she said, her smile clear in her voice even with that added tired edge to it.

Stretched out in the comfortable bed with Clint’s warm, comfortable presence at her side, it didn’t take long for Natasha to drift off to sleep after she heard his breathing settle out. The nightmares didn’t even plague her that night, her body too exhausted and her head still filled with happy thoughts, but when she awoke in the morning it still wasn’t a pleasant awakening. She had felt relatively well the past day and had thought that whatever was wrong with her had finally passed, but apparently she had been mistaken. Her stomach was revolting viciously, much worse than the morning before.

Clint was still curled up against her side, his head on her chest, and she knew there was no way she was getting out of this without waking him, nor did she have time to try. “I have to get up,” she said, her voice coming out as more of a croak from sleep. She didn’t wait for an answer, didn’t give him chance to protest or playfully try to keep her in place; instead she extracted herself from his arms as efficiently as possibly, forcefully if necessary. “Bathroom.” That was the only explanation she gave, and though her stomach protested she tried to walk normally toward the door, though a little hurried. Once in the hallway, though, she bolted for the bathroom, pushing the door to behind her and making it to the toilet just in time to empty the contents of her stomach into the bowl.

After a night of pretty awkward but harmless dreams involving only strange, very young faces, Clint certainly hadn't been prepared for a unpleasant morning. Used to the new accommodations by now and comfortable, relaxed by Natasha's side he had looked forward to a nice sleep in and lazy breakfast in bed. And then trying to get that kitten in the transport box without getting killed in the act.

Obviously there would be a change of plans.

Being awake in a matter of moments if necessary was part of his training, but Natasha fleeing from his arms so suddenly in a safe environment like this, caught him by surprise. She was gone before he had even sat up or asked. And that tone in her voice let him know before he heard the noises, she hadn't just had too much to drink yesterday.

Last time he had left her alone, mostly because the argument before, but this time he didn't hesitate to join her in the bathroom, quietly, carefully, with the first sweater of his he had found in the cabinet to wrap around her back when he knelt down beside her. She was perfectly capable of taking care of herself, of course, but right now she didn't have to, not when they were here together. So he tried his best to help her out, gently held her hair out of her face and rested one hand soothingly on her back until the worst seemed to be over.

For the moment. So, some kind of silly virus after all, or maybe the heat was too much, just as he had feared. A hint of guilt struck him, for wearing her out so much last night when she clearly had still been sick. Only she hadn't been. She had been fine in the evening, and somehow he doubted it had been the food again.

He thought about making a silly pregnancy remark for a second but decided it was too early in the morning for morbid jokes. Sighing, he pulled Natasha in his arms when she seemed to have calmed down and carefully ran his fingers through her hair, just holding her loosely enough, in case her stomach would protest again.

"Looks like we should see a hospital instead of the vet."

It wasn’t as bad as last time without all the stress of their fight adding to it, but it wasn’t as easily explainable either. It could no longer be blamed on jetlag or food poisoning, but maybe a bug of some sort or too much sun the day before. Maybe, but deep down Natasha knew it wasn’t true. Deep down she knew the truth, she remembered from long ago, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to believe it. For over a decade she had been told it wasn’t possible, that it couldn’t happen for her ever again, so as much as her body was trying to tell her yes, her head was still very much in the ‘no’ camp.

She had hoped that Clint wouldn’t follow her, but she knew there was no way he’d stay in bed while she was sick and miserable; she hadn’t been that convincing and the house was too silent not to hear her. Once he was there, though, she was glad for his presence, for the soothing way he rubbed her back and the considerate way he held her hair. When she had finished she wiped her mouth with a bit of tissue and let Clint wrap his arms around her. She didn’t return the embrace, but she did sag against him, trying to prepare herself for the inevitable talk. She wanted to refuse, to say it was nothing, but she knew there was no way out of it this time. He wouldn’t let it go, and worse than fighting with him about it was the way he would treat her if he did agree to let it go. He would treat her like glass, watching her every movement for a sign of sickness, for the lies she would use to cover how she was really feeling. There was really only one option: she had to go.

“Or both,” she said, her voice thick. “I can...” she paused to clear her throat. “You can drop me at the hospital and go to the vet while I’m there.” She knew it would be a hard sell, but it would be easier that way, easier if she could get the news first, on her own.

"Whatever you prefer."

Clint tried hard to keep the worry out of his voice, without much success. Natasha not protesting against seeing a doctor told him all he needed to know. She didn't only look bad, pale and distraught, she felt like it. And maybe only because he had come up with the idea of this country of all places. He pushed the thought away, because self-reproach certainly didn't help anyone right now. Still holding Natasha with one arm, he reached out to flush and put down the toilet lit, then carefully helped her to her feet to sit down on it.

He didn't like the way she looked, at all. She was chewing on something she didn't want to tell him and while he had refused to coddle her in the last days, by now he couldn't ignore it anymore. Maybe they could talk about it on the way. Right now he wanted her with someone who could take care of her body. The rest was his job.

"You okay for a moment alone, red? I'll go get the furball and ask Angelina for a few names in that hospital. Just to make sure you'll be with someone who knows what he's doing."

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

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

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

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

"I'll make it fast."

And Clint meant to, but he took a second to lean down and place a soothing kiss on Natasha's forehead anyway before he went back to the bedroom. Quickly but not overly hurried to not make Natasha nervous on top of feeling bad already. He grabbed two pairs of short pants, shirts and underwear for both of them and brought Natasha her pile while already angling his way into his own clothes. He was as good as out of the room when he stopped, hesitating, but he followed his instinct and reached for her hand for another moment.

"And Nat... You don't need to smile for me when you're feeling bad, okay?"

He pressed her hand softly and managed a smile that was at least a little more convincing than hers a second ago. They should know each other better than having to put up any kind of mask, that was all he wanted her to know. It wasn't like hadn't seen her sick or injured before, as seldom as it had happened. He could deal with that.

Right now she could need a bit of help though, so he kept his promise of hurrying up. He just paused in the kitchen to quickly fill a bowl of milk for the kitten so it could feed while he went for Angelina's advise. The kitten- their kitten, or something, as Natasha had put it, and for some silly reason that had him grinning in spite of all. Especially when he left the house and saw furball already waiting for him.

"You won't be all that happy with me soon", he sighed when the animal started strolling around his legs at once. Only a short pat of its little head he allowed himself when he put the bowl on the porch, then his thoughts were already with his next visit.

As expected, he found his target only a few steps from his house on her morning walk, and when he came back with the acquired list of trustworthy doctors, his mood had quite hit the bottom. To get that list, he of course had had to describe at least vaguely what was happening, and the first question Angelina had come up, hadn't exactly soothed his fluttering nerves.

Of course he had considered that possibility, very vaguely, once or twice in the last days but pushed it away immediately, scoffed at the idea... Physically impossible, that was what Natasha had told him, he had seen it in her medical file too.

Ridiculous. His protective instincts combined with the heat got to his head, that was all. Because that other possibility, as small as it was, that Natasha's body was playing an evil trick on them, was too terrifying to even consider. Natasha had gone through this horror once before in the past, from all he knew, and even if she was stronger, had grown a lot, become a whole different person since then... Going through that again would be just as bad for her as for any other woman. And with all he knew from her medical file, there was no way this could have a happy ending.

And even if... That prospect was even scarier, so Clint gave himself a hard mental smack on the head and shoved that subject far, far out of reach, the moment he entered the house. Overreacting again, Barton. There was absolutely no reason to assume any of this would happen. Just a virus or something, everything was okay, Natasha would be better soon. And if his hands trembled a bit when he got that transport box from the store room, well, he hadn't had anything to eat yet.

Before he went to get his hands all scratched open, he stopped to see if Natasha was ready enough for the trip. No reason to give furball the shock of her lifetime before they were even save to go.

"Nat?"

Natasha sat still and focused on her breathing as well as the sounds of Clint moving around in the house until he returned with some clothes for her which she accepted gratefully. Slipping the sweater from her shoulders, she was just unfolding the shirt when he grabbed her hand.

He was always so intuitive, and she should have known it wouldn’t fool him, but the question was why had she bothered to try? She didn’t have to put on a mask, not with him, and she knew this, but maybe it wasn’t him she was trying to fool. If she was honest with herself she was scared, and the act was just as much for herself as him, if not more. “Okay,” she agreed, giving his hand a squeeze back.

Letting him go to take care of the kitten, she pulled on the clothes that he had given her, almost managing to get fully dressed before another wave of nausea hit her. She didn’t have as much to bring up this time and was left dry heaving at the end, but it passed again, thankfully before Clint returned. By the time she heard him calling out to her she had finished dressing, combed out her hair and was carefully brushing her teeth. Not wanting to risk trying to talk with the mouthful of toothpaste, she remove her free hand from the sink where she was leaning heavily and stuck it out through the door to the hall to wave blindly in his general direction.

Since Natasha wasn't done yet, Clint quickly peeled himself an orange to get his body from sleep mode into fully capable of driving, even with a head full of worries and paranoia. He stayed there for eating, not wanting to provoke another wave of nausea with the smell. By the time he washed the juice off his hands, at least they weren't trembling anymore. He was fine. Everything was totally okay.

Well, not everything, not the way Natasha more leaned on that sink more than standing straight, but they would take care of that. He brought a bottle of water for her from the fridge, in case she wanted to try at least and get something in her stomach, and then went for the considerable task of getting their visitor ready for the ride.

Well, fetching the animal wasn't the problem, little one seemed to trust him enough by now and didn't protest when he picked her up, having just finished her meal. Maybe she thought, she was in for some more treats when he carried her inside where the opened transport box was waiting. The misunderstandings - voiced in high-pitched noises and a lot of these harmless little hisses - only began when he tried to put her inside. By the time he could finally close the grate of the basket, he was bleeding from several fine but painful cuts and not exactly happier than before.

"Well, that was fun."

He looked up at Natasha with half a grin and wiped his hands on his pants with a small grimace.

"Good to go?"

She very nearly threw up again when it came to spitting out the toothpaste, but she managed to hold it back to just a few gags, mostly because she had nothing left to bring up. When she was finished she wrapped herself in Clint’s sweater again before exiting the bathroom, the bottle of water he had so thoughtfully provided in hand.

Hanging back while he dealt with their little charge, she winced at the power struggle before offering a sympathetic look when he finally got the carrier closed a little worse for wear. “You should probably clean those first,” she said of the wounds. They were minor scratches, but until they got the kitten checked out they probably shouldn’t be too careless. “I’ll take her to the car.”

Taking the carrier out with her, she settled into the passenger seat and held it on her lap, not wanting to jostle the poor thing too much. "I know, it's not nice being caged," she said soothingly to the cries emanating from the box. "But it's only for a short time and it will be worth it, promise." She only hoped she could say the same about her own appointment.

Clint grimaced a little but followed the advise without protest, mostly because he wanted to get Natasha to a doctor as quickly as possible and not argue about such a stupid thing instead. Also, he tended to be a little paranoid and extra careful with his hands since they were his most important assets. So living with a little burning from a handful of disinfection it was.

It was still early enough and the car wasn't too heated, fortunately, also the ride to the hospital was a short one from what he remembered. He tried to recall for a second why he knew that, what kind of business he had had there before, but dismissed the thought when it wouldn't form. Really no time for that right now.

He mostly made it to keep his eyes on the street and not suffocate Natasha with worried looks all the time but it wasn't easy. That fleeting, ice cold panic from before was still dancing in the back of his head, as much as he tried to keep it out, and the way Natasha acted didn't help. He had never seen her so eager and terrified to see a doctor at the same time. He felt a little like their little passenger who broke the silence with an ongoing litany of heartbreaking meows and reached a little paw through the bars of the grate from time to time. Highly confused, caged in something that was too big and terrifying to grasp and unable to put his fear into words.

But he didn't want to leave Natasha alone with this either, not when she was clearly uneasy herself. He didn't trust his unsteady hands and rather kept both of them on the wheel, just reached out to shortly brush her hand at a red traffic light. As long as she didn't bring it up herself, he didn't want to ask her. He just wanted to remind her that she could, anytime.

"You know that I'm there for you, right? Always."

Edited Date: 2014-06-07 09:12 pm (UTC)

Although Clint made a good show of keeping his attention on his driving, Natasha knew his mind was on her. He had expected her to brush the sickness off as nothing, some kind of bug she had picked up, and claim that she just needed a day or two of rest and she would be fine. The last thing he had expected, she assumed, was for her to agree to see a doctor so easily.

Of course there was a part of her that had wanted to ignore it all, to pretend that everything was fine, but she knew he would see right through her and the tension would get so bad between them that it would ruin the relaxing mood they were trying to create here. It was a testament to how far their relationship had progressed that she had chosen to face this head on instead, though clearly it still had a little ways to go since she wanted to do it alone. She still had a ways to go.

“Shh, it’s okay little one,” she said in an almost musical tone from time to time, trying to soothe the confused and terrified kitten. “We’ll take care of you.”

Looking over at Clint when he suddenly touched her hand she nodded. “I know,” she said, honestly. She knew he would be, but there were some things she still needed to do on her own. She wouldn’t shut him out, wouldn’t keep from him whatever she found, but she wanted to do this alone, to give herself time to deal with the results before having to talk about it. She hoped he understood that.

Catching his hand in hers, she brought it to her lips to kiss his knuckles gently. “We’ll always have each other’s backs.”

Her assurance made it a little easier and he felt at least a little more secure in his own mind, so Clint held her hand for a little while and tried to breathe. To relax as much as possible. They didn't know anything yet.

Still he was very relieved when he could pull in on the half empty hospital parking lot. Fortunately he found a shadowy little spot to stop so they could leave their little guest alone for a few moments. That hard knot in his stomach only grew more painful on the way inside, and for once it wasn't just that he hated hospitals with all of his heart.

He handed Natasha the small list of names he had scribbled down on the back of Angelina's shopping list before, and most of the money from his wallet since she didn't have hers with her, so she could bribe her way into a quick consultation. And then suddenly he didn't want to leave at all.

"You okay?"

He touched her arm again, a little clumsy this time, and peered over to the small row of people waiting by the front desk counter.

"Want me to wait until it's your turn?"

When they got out of the car at the hospital, Natasha took great care in setting the little carrier on the floor on the passenger side figuring it would be the most stable place for the rest of the drive. After a few last soothing words to the kitten she walked with Clint into the building, her own stomach flipping and churning.

Taking the list and the money, she gave him a half smile and tucked a few of the bills back into his hand. “You’re going to have to pay the vet something, you know.”

He was practically radiating nervousness and tried to calm him down by laying a gentle hand on the side of his face. “I will be fine,” she assured him. “You have to get back to our charge. It would be cruel to leave her alone in this heat for too long.” The poor thing was tiny and half starved as it was, and Natasha was concerned the heat might affect it more than a normal kitten. “You take care of her, I will take care of me, and we’ll meet right back here, okay?”

"I'll wait on the parking lot."

Clint still didn't like the idea of leaving Natasha alone in this situation, so vague, so unreal and poisoning the air all th same, but in the end it was her decision. And their relationship based a lot on giving her all the freedom she needed. He pressed another short kiss to her forehead and turned away then, keeping his restless sigh to himself until he was outside the building.

Their kitten was even more miserable, now that it wasn't close to the person anymore it already seemed to like so much. Clint began to wish they'd done this vet thing on another day. These sad, scared sounds from the back of the car just added to that emotional weight on his shoulders. Only overreacting of course, false alert, it had to be. In the evening they would laugh about how they had freaked out for a moment, surely... Right now he didn't see anything funny about the situation at all.

At least the waiting room of the vet was completely empty. No, Sicilians weren't morning people. When he told the doctor that he was a friend of Angelina, the grumpy, tired face of the middle aged woman lit up immediately. She motioned him to enter the care room and at least tried to keep the frown off her face when she took a look into his transport box. A confusion he could understand perfectly, he usually shared it.

Stray cats had been a problem in southern countries for centuries. Kittens seldom were taken as pets around here. They were rather eliminated before they could overpopulate the streets or chased out of the garden before they could ruin the vegetable patches.

And then there were good souls like Angelina who spent their money for neutering the males and take care of the sick and injured. And though Clint did neither have time nor the passion for such a life time cause, in some unexpected way he had taken a liking to this little rogue here. He wanted it to have at least a few years of a healthy life, and he couldn't act like he did it only for Natasha any longer. That furry devil had taken his heart, as much as he disliked to admit it.

So when the doctor asked him in a sympathetic voice if little one was worth the cost and trouble, he just glared at her.

That seemed to help - well, his glare did have that effect on most people - and the woman did her job. It should have been a relief when she got the animal out of the basket with quick, expert hands, gloves protecting her from the tiny, razor sharp claws - a trick Clint definitely would remember - and the little one suddenly was completely quiet. Only it wasn't. The little creature was stock still with fear, that was all. Her whole body trembled when the doctor put her on a pair of scales, giving Clint another doubtful look about the number she wrote down.

Fortunately she didn't say anything, just started to search her patient, feel her delicate body, check on that old injury on her ear and looked into both of them before cleaning them with a piece of cotton. Only when the doctor gave the kitten a small injection, it let out another of these pained meows, very quiet, defeated sounding this time, and Clint felt a little like joining the choir. This definitely wouldn't make his list of favorite mornings.

Little one went into sulking mode after that. She didn't even try to protest much when the doctor forced her to swallow a small pill, and wriggled only a little when she was fitted a smug flea collar around her neck. Miraculously, she didn't have fleas, as the doctor informed Clint - thank God for small favors - doubtlessly thanks to her lacking contact with other cats. He definitely preferred it if it stayed that way.

He wasn't sure how to feel about the attached little coin with his telephone number on that collar, but if it helped keeping people from harming little one when they understood she had... a caretaker or something... There could be worse.

"Bring her back in a few weeks, then we can chip her", the woman finally ordered when the patient was back in her box, apparently still too shocked to even protest, and she started writing down a list of things for Clint to buy. "If she makes it, that is. If you keep on feeding her well and give her the anthelmintics, she has a good chance. She's tougher than I thought. Give her a bath when she comes home. That's the stuff you put in the water. You get all this in that shop across the street..."

And so on. Clint allowed himself to clock out and soak the information in with that certain brain half responsible for tactical meetings and Fury's motivational speeches, while his conscious thoughts went back to Natasha. She would be happy to hear that little one was doing alright at least. If she wanted to hear it at all and wasn't just being pushed in a bottomless abyss by her own diagnosis...

He just couldn't keep the fear out of his mind longer than five minutes. He should have been with her now. Not bargaining with a native who apparently thought, Americans didn't know anything about local economies, about a reasonable price for the session.

The last argument they finally had over little one's patient record since the doctor insisted on putting a name on there and he simply had no idea what to answer. Natasha and him probably should come up with something better for the next visit than the Italian equivalent for Jane Doe...

Finally he left the building more unnerved than ever, with like a single Euro left in his wallet. Fortunately, in that pet shop he could use his credit card, and he didn't pay much mind to the sum on that checkout display in the end. He was sure, he had all kind of stuff in the two bags he didn't even need, just because he really wanted to get back to the hospital and know what was going on now.

By the time he came back to the car, little one had found her voice back and protested very clearly about still being caged. At least the kitten treats the girl in the shop had put in his bag without even asking, came in handy now. When he shook a few of the fish-formed little crackers through the grate of the basket, he was rewarded with another cut on the back of his hand. But soon his passenger was too curious about these smelly little things right before her paws and tried one of them, after looking and sniffing it from all sides. About half a minute later all of them were gone and the furball settled with licking its little mouth and than started to clean herself. She didn't even even protest when Clint put the basket down on the back floor again.

He should have been relieved but after driving just a few blocks, the silence already got on his nerves and he turned the radio on. Eros Ramazotti throwing passionate corny pieces about broken hearts and hot summer nights at him at least took his mind off things. For like a few minutes. He left the motor running when they reached their destination, both to drown his senses with more song and silly commercials and let the air conditioning on for little one, and tried not to stare holes into the hospital doors.

Edited Date: 2014-06-08 09:29 am (UTC)

Natasha watched him leave before approaching the desk. She held back some of the money, and while what bit she did offer helped, it was when she ended up vomiting in a nearby trashcan that the receptionist finally took her to a private room to wait for one of the doctors on the list she had presented.

Only a couple minutes passed before a rather perturbed doctor entered the room, but luckily years of training had taught Natasha how to read people and play on certain aspects of their personalities to get what she wanted. She amplified the fear she actually felt and fell into pitiful sobs, and by the time she had described her symptoms the doctor was more sympathetic and helpful than annoyed. He took blood and urine samples and promised to put a rush on all the tests since she was so far from home and so clearly distraught.

Once she was alone she used a few tissues to clean up and settled in for a long wait. Only then did she begin to regret her decision to do this alone. It would be nice to have Clint by her side, someone to talk to and try to distract her from everything, but she also knew it wouldn’t have helped. He would have tried to joke and make her laugh but she would have felt his nerves and fear the whole time and it would have only made things worse. It was better to do this alone, though at least thinking of Clint gave her something else to focus on. She wondered how he was doing at the vet, and how their little one was faring. There was a chance they had destroyed any trust the little creature had in them this morning, and that they might never see it again once they let it out of the cage, a thought that bothered her more than it probably should have. It was just a stray and it had only been a few days; she should not feel this attached to it so soon, but she was, and she knew Clint was too. She really hoped the draw of food at least was enough to keep the kitten coming back.

Time ticked by and she fidgeted, wishing she had brought a book to read but knowing she wouldn’t be able to concentrate enough to do so. She could have wandered the room and poked at the various items set about but she stayed perfectly still, absently rubbing her stomach and staring at the door.

After what felt like a lifetime it finally opened again and as soon as she saw the smile on the doctor’s face she knew; without him even saying anything she knew. Her hand over her stomach tightened.

She accepted the news with disbelief and tried to argue it before falling silent, falling numb. Drugs were purchased, further appointments made, and he even refused to let her pay for the appointment when she told him how high risk this was. There would be more, he would get his money in the long run, though Natasha could feel that it wasn’t about the money. Angelina had been right with her list, this doctor was one of the good ones.

By the time she exited the hospital she had fallen into a state of numbness that left her rather unreadable. Clint was waiting, as she knew he would be, and she climbed wordlessly into the passenger seat. Her first instinct was to ask him about his adventure but she knew that would be cruel, knew how worried he was.

“I’m fine,” she said, knowing the words would be of no comfort. “I’ll tell you about it when we get back to the house, okay?” She didn’t want to do it here, not in the parking lot, not in the car.

It wasn't okay, not at all, she wasn't okay. She was in shock, deep enough to paralyze her mind, and there weren't many things that could shake the Black Widow that much. With not telling him, she really told him enough.

It wasn't okay to just shut up and drive back as if nothing happened, no. He wanted to hear it from her, he wanted to know what and how the hell it had happened and even more important, what the hell they should be doing now.

But Natasha asked him to drive her home, so he started the car and shut up. Maybe he would have argued, would have insisted on her letting him know, if he hadn't been so goddamn afraid himself. Maybe he didn't even want to know.

For a while they drove in silence because he needed all his concentration to not wrap them around the next flower tray or down the serpentines. Also he didn't have an idea what the hell to say. So he spent the time dully translating the music from the radio in various languages in his head, to keep his thoughts away from that one scary subject. Or with telling himself to stop freaking out over nothing. Probably it was just like he had thought, Natasha just didn't cope with the heat, and they would have to leave much sooner than expected. That was what she didn't want to tell him, sure...

His own pale reflection in the back mirror let him know, he wasn't very successful with fooling himself. And Natasha didn't look much better. She looked... lost. Scared and alone. Wasn't there something he had told her earlier about being there for her? It wasn't fair to fall into brooding mode just because she needed a moment for herself to cope with everything. He had promised her.

His hand still felt too cold and heavy when he placed it on Natasha's thigh but he felt a little better when he could touch her, his anchor that always pulled him down when he threatened to float off into hurt and panic.

It didn't help find anything to say, though.

She knew she hadn’t assuaged his worries at all but she was grateful when he didn’t push her to talk. She wanted to wait until they were back in the comfort of the house that she had grown to love over the past few days, back where they could stay until they could talk it all out and come up with a solution. She didn’t want the distraction of driving nor the interruption of stopping somewhere to talk first. Thankfully Clint seemed to understand, or at least he bent to her wishes as he almost always did. Whatever the reason she didn’t care so long as it worked.

Staring out the window as they drove in silence, she tried to collect her thoughts, tried to figure out exactly what she would say to Clint when they got home. Would he be angry with her? It wasn’t carelessness; he had seen her file and he knew that this should be impossible. She had had no reason to take any precautions. Ultimately, though, it wasn’t telling him that would be the hard part, but what was to come afterwards. That was what she was dreading.

Looking over at him when she felt his hand rest on her leg, she covered it with her own and gave it a gentle squeeze. “How about the little one? Is she completely traumatized?” she asked, trying to settle both their nerves by breaking the silence between them.

"Well, at least she'll only hate me and not you for the rest of her life", Clint answered with a wry grin. "Seems like she can be bribed with fish treats though. We still need to bath her, but she's holding up okay."

He didn't mention the other stuff - the daily pill for a whole two weeks and that bathing as soon as possible thing - because right now he had other things to worry about. There was no telling if little one would be back to their house tomorrow after all that had happened in the morning, and though that thought hurt a little... Right now he just didn't have any emotional strength left to think about that.

"She'll be a little tipsy from the injection." Before they could fall silent again, he fortunately remembered another thing from that doctor's speech before that had passed his conscious mind at that point. "We should keep her in the house for a few hours."

One more complication he actually didn't want to deal with right now, but they had to talk about it now when they were already pulling in their street. In a few minutes there would be other stuff to worry about.

Although it was a joke, Natasha could tell that the thought bothered Clint. He had gotten painted the bad guy here, having to deal with it on his own instead of both of them sharing the blame. She hadn’t meant for it to be that way, hadn’t even considered the possibility; she had had other things on her mind.

“I’m sure she’ll get over it. You are awfully hard to hate,” she said, squeezing his hand again.

She wasn’t expecting the added distraction of caring for the kitten right away, but maybe it would be a good distraction, or maybe it would sleep for the next few hours while they dealt with their own issues first.

As if it is something that can be dealt with in a couple of hours.

“We can put a blanket in the bathtub for now,” Natasha suggested. It would get the kitten out of the cage, but not give her free range to roam around the house just yet. It would be a big enough space for one so tiny to rest in for an hour or two, surely.

She saw the house looming ahead and was somehow filled with both relief and trepidation. The four walls gave her comfort, but once inside there would be no hiding.

Natasha was trying to comfort him and he made sure to press her thigh softly in return but he couldn't bring himself to smile. The tension between them was unbearable though neither of them wanted it. He knew it was the better decision, that he wouldn't have wanted to be stuck in the middle of the city, feeling like his mind had been turned inside out. But he wouldn't exactly consider this drive the best of his life either.

He was more than relieved when he could finally park the car and get out in the quickly warming morning sun. The kitten hat withdrawn to the very end of the small basket when he got it out from the floor carefully, obviously afraid. He could feel another little part of his heart break, but he did his best to ignore it. On a scale from worrying about his partner being either sick or pregnant, a scared animal was still pretty low on the list right now.

"Can you please bring the bags from the trunk, Nat? The meds shouldn't stay in the heat."

He brought his passenger straight to the bathroom, just taking a blanket from the sofa with him on the way. Maybe the already familiar smell of both of them would help little one to feel a little better. He spread it in the bathtub before putting the basket in and opening it for the kitten to come out on its own, whenever she wanted to. For today he had earned himself enough scratches.

He thought about putting a few more of these treats in the tub, but he really wasn't sure he could live with this awful wait for even another second. So he ended up on the sofa instead, waiting for Natasha to join him. Waiting for the inevitable.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Profile

Natasha Romanoff | The Black Widow

September 2020

S	M	T	W	T	F	S
		1	2	3	4	5
6	7	8	9	10	11	12
13	14	15	16	17	18	19
20	21	22	23	24	25	26
27	28	29	30

Page Summary

farmboyhawk - (no subject)

Style Credit

Base style: Abstractia by chiming
Theme: Pulse by chiming

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags

Page generated Jun. 23rd, 2025 09:56 pm