Natasha was easy. Not that kind of easy – well, not just that kind of easy, but it wasn't about that. It hadn't been about that. Clint had told himself that for the past few months but then he'd found the stick in his bag that morning. The bag he took to the base every day. The bag that Natasha had access too; but so, did Laura.
His wife.
The woman he had married eight months ago. Married
He had never even been on a date with Natasha, never seen her dressed up – mostly seen her either naked of scraped up and broken into bits – yet he had been sleeping with her since a week before the wedding.
It had been one night, it had been some mission tracking down a drug cartel who had taken on some S.H.I.E.L.D. intel and had plans to sell it on to 'Mother Russia'. They had spent the night in a two star in Budapest, they'd both been battered and bruised and glad to be alive.
He had helped her with a stab wound just above her breast and one thing led to the next.
He had promised never again, he was getting married. He loved Laura, he knew he did.
Natasha was different.
Natasha was curvy and voluptuous but strong and dominant, she had no hesitations and he knew every murmur, every sigh, was real. The morning after, waking up next to a naked Natasha, he knew what most guys would be feeling but he was far from it. He didn't feel he had conquered the infamous Black Widow, he felt like he had slept with his best friend. He felt like he had made the worst decision in his life.
He could remember vividly that morning. He wasn't sure how long he had sat on the edge of the bed, his face sandwiched between his palms, but he was roused from his thoughts by a shifting in the sheets behind him.
He had been so certain of what he wanted, of what was right and what was needed, until Natasha caught his eyes again.
She sat up, boobs on full show, her red hair falling around her shoulders. It was slightly curly in the morning air and the light caught the auburn colour making it split into a multitude of shades. She was stunning. He had always known that – she was a trained femme fatale for God's sake – but he had never even thought about this until that night.
He had seen her half naked several times, seen her slip in and out of her skin tight suit but there was never any feeling, any desire to get naked with her.
Natasha had spoken to him, reached to touch his shoulder but he had pulled away. He hadn't even been able to look at her. Never again, never.
Never only lasted for another month and a half.
It was in the base, against a wall in the bathroom, she was able to hold herself up with her legs around his waist. It was thrilling, it was exciting and new.
It was wrong, it was always wrong. Clint wasn't an idiot, he knew this was an affair, he knew he was cheating on his new wife. He had two lives, he had always had two lives, his life as an agent and his life as a regular guy. Now he had two women involved, a wife who he went home to, a wife that cooked for him and that he wanted a future with, and a secret lover, a woman he could have sex with every time they survived, every time they had a close shave or a broken bone; or lost a colleague.
Now he sat in one of the bunk rooms, sitting on the little, uncomfortable bed and holding the stick in his hand. There was no doubt it was that kind of stick, it blatantly announced in a calm blue on the side that it was a pregnancy test. There was no hiding it was positive either, it didn't pussy foot around it, simply saying 'pregnant' in the little window.
He had to speak to one of them, and it had to be Natasha. If it was Laura's this was easy, simple and it would end, properly end, for real this time. If it was Natasha's, well, that could be something entirely different. He didn't think Natasha wanted kids, he was pretty sure she would be happy with an abortion, but he wasn't sure he was. It was a baby at the end of the day, a living baby.
There wasn't exactly an abundance of choices, and each one was painful. He had never wanted it to get this far, never wanted to hurt Laura. He was lucky enough to know that hurting Natasha wasn't so much of an issue. She was like granite, unbreakable and strong as anything but he wasn't stupid, he knew there was a lot to her that he didn't know about, knew that she had never told anyone much of anything about herself. What if she secretly wanted this?
She was a spy after all, one of the best he'd ever come across, she was guarded in her emotions but she had been forced into that, there had never been a choice. Maybe this time she would want a choice.
He sighed and pressed his finger to the button on his earpiece.
"Romanoff to 0322." Clint waited, holding his breath until the reply came.
"I copy."
The knock at the door seemed to come almost straight after Clint had remembered how to breath, Natasha slinked round the door and shut it behind her. She crossed her arms, glaring at Clint with suspicion.
"What? You're not you, something's eating at you, so what?"
Clint took a deep breath in before he spoke.
"I think you need to tell me something, I think we need to talk, and anyway if it's you then you shouldn't be working, you certainly shouldn't be carrying firearms. We'll talk to Fury - he likes you, he'll listen – and it'll give us time to work it out and talk and sort thing's with Laura. I can't let you get rid of it Nat, I can't. If it comes to it Laura and I. I'll tell Laura and hopefully she'll forgive me. If not, I'll take it on, I'll leave and find a job somewhere and I'll-."
"Clint!"
Natasha stopped him mid breath,
"You are talking a load of crap, cut to the chase. What are you talking about, I've been carrying these things since I could walk, if you've suddenly gone all macho and want to keep me safe then you really need to remember I'm not just a pretty face."
"So, it's not you…?"
"Not me what?"
Clint sighed and reached in his pocket, drawing out the test he had tried to conceal and handing it to Natasha.
The smile on her face suddenly disappeared. She looked at the test as though it was something vile and disgusting. Her eyes narrowed and she swallowed hard before turning to glare at him.
"Is this supposed to be some kind of sick joke?"
Clint felt suddenly nervous, Natasha had gone cold, silent, in a way he hadn't seen before. This was not the Natasha he knew and he had no idea why he had offended her.
"It isn't yours? You're not -,"
"Pregnant? Huh, chance would be nice."
"Chance?"
Natasha sighed, handed the test back to him and flopped down onto the bed beside him.
"There's a reason I can do this job Clint. I can't, I can't have kids."
Clint felt his heart drop to his stomach. He had no idea, not even an inkling that she was infertile. It made sense now, how she had never bothered about condoms, he had always assumed she was on the pill or the implant or something but this made more sense. It explained why there had never been any accidents over the years, explained why she didn't have a track record of terminations.
"Natasha, I-,"
She shook her head, shrugged her shoulders.
"You didn't know. No one knows. I got sterilised years ago, when I was a kid, it was part of the programme."
"So, you've never?"
"Clint. There's something you haven't picked up. You're a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent and your sitting moping over my story rather than getting your head around what this means."
Clint felt his heart rise and began to beat faster, thudding in his chest. Laura was pregnant. If Natasha wasn't then Laura, Laura was.
"Listen. Before you get all emotional and start planning your little league schedule, this ends now. Us, it's over. I'm not making you decide. You needed it, you needed an out, but now you have an out. You've got a kid on the way Barton. You're going to call Laura, tell her how happy you are and you're going to forget we ever had a thing."
Natasha stood, leaving Clint reeling over what had just happened. He was going to be a Dad, but not with Natasha, Natasha who couldn't get pregnant, with Laura, his wife. He was going to have a family.
Natasha paused at the door, drumming her fingernails on the metal once or twice before lifting her gaze from the floor and smiling at him.
"And Clint? Congratulations, don't screw it up."