"Natasha, I-." Bruce was cut off by his own groan as she gently run her fingertips over the Doctor's chest.
"Yes?" she asked, her eyes innocent and doll-like. She knew how to do this, how to seduce any man for that matter, but the Doctor – terrified of Hulking out – was far from easy.
Natasha stood in a full set of lacy black lingerie, push up bra and all, hoping to draw his eyes to her assets. She knew she had the body, knew he would eventually give in, she'd met few men – even fewer straight men – who could resist her next move.
She masked his hands, currently resting on her hips, and lifted them bringing them up to her chest so that he cupped one of her breasts in each hand. She squeezed his hands, hinting that he should follow the movement, causing a gasp to leave her lips.
The doctor, slowly, cautiously began to massage her breasts while leaning in, his bare chest brushing against his hand, and kissing her with a strength she had yet to feel from the shy man.
There was a pop as they broke apart. Natasha kept her eyes focused on his. His bottom lip hung lose and she could see the hunger hidden in his eyes as she slid her hand down his belly, grasping the buckle of his belt. He looked saddened as their eyes met.
"Are you sure?"
Natasha nodded, directing her gaze towards the widow's bites she still wore on each wrist.
Wrapping her arms around his neck to play lazily with his hair she whispered, determined to keep her voice low and husky,
"I'm ready doctor, I know you are too." She paused, her hand wandering lower to fondle gently. He swallowed.
"We're safe, we can do this." Another pause. She nibbled his earlobe.
"I want to do this,"
Natasha removed her hand, turning so her back was to the doctor, stripping off her bra and walking, feet crossing so her hips rocked and headed to climb onto her bed. She lay down on her side, propping up her head and watching his expression as he admired her almost naked form.
She could tell he was battling his thoughts, tell he was a mess of logic and testosterone. She could imagine the effects of one and see the effects of the other.
"Come here, Bruce." She whispered again, biting her bottom lip. Another tactic.
The moment the doctor was within her reach she took control. Natasha sat her companion on the edge of the bed, removing his belt and trousers and then moving to straddle his lap so that his eyes did not know where to focus.
"Natasha," he groaned with a hint of hesitation in his voice. She pressed a finger to his lips.
"I have these," she showed her wrists, "and there's a HK on the table, you're a man Bruce, you can't deter from sex forever."
He sighed, a not of worry evident but he allowed her to lift her body and remove his boxers.
"Hmm," Natasha joked, "I knew you wanted this, deep down."
Bruce hissed as she created a strong grip on him with one hand, sliding it down and back up with expert precision.
He groaned loudly before shaking his head,
"Natasha, please, it's too much. She stopped, pausing and loosening her grip.
Her eyes went to his face for a moment, reading him, watching the rings of green in his cheeks fade. She moved from his lap back onto the bed, slipping out her knickers and laying in wait.
"Let's not tease anymore. Come here, we can do this and God, I want to."
She felt his weight lay a little onto her body. Their eyes meeting briefly. Bruce moved off her almost instantly and Natasha sighed internally before realising what he wanted.
She shook her head,
"It's ok, we don't need one. I won't get pregnant. I want you to feel this."
Their eyes once more connected for a brief second before their lips fell into place, Bruce once more allowing some of his weight to fall onto her. The kiss was strong, searing and arousing, Natasha felt her heart soar in a way it hadn't in years. The kiss deepened, she gave a curt nod and he slowly pushed inside her, their bodies meeting properly for the first time.
"Natasha? Nat? Earth to Romanoff?" On Clint's final call Natasha finally heard her name.
"You ready?"
They had prepared a sparring session ahead of the latest team exercise. For the Ex-SHIELD agents sparring was a little different from the rest of the team, they used every method they knew whereas the others, well, their skill sets were more particular. November was never a good time for Natasha, her thoughts miles away in Siberia, remembering those lost to war and as a consequence of war. It was always hard to remember, but remembering was something she struggled to keep away from. She had never spoken to her team about the forties, and she planned to keep it that way.
Natasha shook her head subtly, grabbing a baton in her right hand and jumping to her feet. Barton looked at her strangely, his eyes settling on her abs. It wasn't as if it was a new feature, Natasha had always been at the height of fitness, it came with the job, but his eyes were not ones full of admiration, respect or anything else positive, he looked quizzical.
"You been on the doughnuts Nat?"
He nodded his chin towards her lower abdomen. Natasha looked down. She supposed her stomach was a little pudgier than usual, but then it often was before her period- not an uncommon thing as far as she was aware.
"Stalling Barton?"
She challenged before kicking into gear just as her opponent did. After a half hour of hitting, kicking, punching and brute strength, they both flopped to the floor, sweaty and breathing heavily,
"When you next at the tower?"
Natasha asked between pants, she knew Clint was soon to be a Dad again and he spent what time he could at home with his wife and other two kids. Clint eyed the ceiling, counting dates in his head
"I'll be here next week, 17th." Natasha looked at him strangely,
"The 17th isn't next week Clint, it can't be."
He laughed, "Ugh, yeah, it is Tasha, Laura gets a scan on the sixteenth, the Thursday, I'll be here on Friday."
Natasha felt her blood run cold, but she ignored it, thanking Clint with a handshake and excusing herself briefly before they were joined by the captain.
Natasha disappeared to her room, grabbing her diary and flouncing down between the scatter cushions on her bed. Clint must have it totally wrong, it couldn't be the seventeenth next week. As she flicked the pages that feeling of dread and confusion grew through her body. She kept a record, many girls did as far as she knew, so she could work with specific clients without a period interrupting.
Natasha knew the 17th of September had been missed, but she often skipped whether due to adrenaline or the mess made of her body in the Red Room. But two, two missed periods. It couldn't be happening. Natasha knew it could be nothing but that part of her brain was quietened by the other, the side becoming increasingly aware of when she and Bruce had-. But she couldn't be, after all these years with no protection, with no accidents.
There was a knock on her door and she threw the diary to the floor before asking the knocker to come in. Steve poked his head around the door, he smiled.
"You joining us Nat?"
The sparring session. She had almost forgotten, her brain a pile of mush as each school of thought fought for attention. Her brain couldn't catch up with the captain's words.
"I, uh, no. Not feeling great, you go ahead without me."
Lying in bed Natasha thought. She had given herself three days. Nothing yet. She lay on her side, her mind wandering, was it still possible? After all, they had done to her body, was any of it possible? Her memories made her think otherwise but after all this time? Was it possible that Bruce's gamma-fuelled sperm worked with her body?
She tried to shake the idea, her mind unsettled on what to feel. Was she happy? Scared? Dreading what was to come? Her hand, she found was resting on a piece of exposed skin on her stomach. She gently thumbed the area. If it was real, if she could be- Natasha could barely think the word- pregnant, then what did this mean? She had never allowed herself to consider a baby, never been stable and sane enough. She had never even been a huge fan of children, but was that something she had brought upon herself? The very idea of a little person in her womb was exciting, hopeful. It was normal, and Natasha had never been normal.
She found herself daydreaming, imagining her belly growing, thinking of the baby moving and squirming around. Imagining making love with Bruce, softly, gently as she carried their child.
She knew she had to know, had to test but she couldn't bring herself to do it, what if she was wrong?
Eventually, around 1 am she couldn't take the thinking, wondering and planning any more, sneaking into the en-suite bathroom she removed the pregnancy test she had hidden in the back of the medicine cabinet, a medical type she had sneaked from Bruce's lab while he was busy elsewhere.
The job itself was easy, she peed on a stick, she waited. The waiting felt like forever, an eternity. She places the stick on the edge of the basin, opening the frosted window and looking out at the early morning. The air was cold on her face, the morning still and light only just starting to peak from behind the clouds.
How would she tell Bruce? Tell Clint, tell everyone else? What would happen with work, she couldn't do her job in her condition. She couldn't do her job pregnant she reminded herself, swapping out the words. It wasn't definite.
She glanced at the clock. Two minutes to go. Would they be happy for her? She knew Tony would make a remark about forgetting to wrap it, but - as much as Natasha had never been one for fate or destiny or any of that crap- she felt if this had happened, if she had got caught after so long, then it had to be for a reason. Glancing at the clock she felt a rush of adrenaline, it was time.
She grabbed the stick, planting herself back on the toilet seat before she took a breath and flipped it over. She felt cold, the heat pouring down her body and out through her toes, making her shudder.
She had been so sure, the signs were there, the two missed periods, she had been feeling a little strange too. It had to be wrong but logic and life experience told her she was wrong. She placed the test on the floor, her head falling into her hands. Negative.
Natasha had never imagined she could be so disheartened by a negative test. Only twenty-four hours ago, before the thoughts truly entered her head, she would never have dreamt of a positive. Her dreams popped like bubbles in her head. She threw the piece of plastic against the wall, tears falling from her eyes. She hadn't wanted this, she never wanted it before but the possibility, the chance to be like everyone else, to be a mother. It was gone. Natasha had always known not to dream of impossible things, Ivan had taught her as much, but for a moment she was an average woman, a woman with purpose, with anything but the need and desire to kill.
That was all she was, a killer. A spy, Assassin, Avenger and now she knew, knew for certain, a mother would never be on that list.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm running with it, with you. If running's the plan, as far as you want."
"Are you out of your mind?"
"I want you to understand that I'm...,"
"Natasha, where can I go? Where in the world am I not a threat?"
"You're not a threat to me."
"You sure? Even if I didn't just...There's no future with me. I can't ever... I can't have this, kids, do the math I physically can't."
"Neither can I."