Author's note:

Let's start my round of thank you's with my lovely beta: Sanctuaria!

Thank you very much to the wonderful two readers who reviewed my last chapter: discordchick and sanctuaria! It means so much to know what you think :D

A shout out to all of you who Favourited or are following this story: KarolRodrigues; LittleeOne; PRISHAMITTAL; TTYLXOXO; emmapemaberg; Aubrey Etta; Fury-Natalia; ; Sanctuaria; crazylost; .

Natasha and Clint were staring at one another intensely, not letting the other out of their sight. Natasha went to step forward, her thigh muscles tensing, but stopped when she saw him ready to retract away from her. He knew her too well for a simple attack. With a controlled step, she moved to the side, watching as he matched her movements and pace perfect, keeping them directly opposite each other maintaining a distance of three metres.

Natasha dropped to the floor as his arm moved, the knife embedding itself into the wall behind where she had been. In response she rolled backwards, throwing two of her own knives at him as she stood. It was anti-climatic to her; neither were sparring to injure the other and knew they would start a hand-to-hand battle soon. But the build up always thrilled her, always put her on her toes. She felt a smile come to her lips and Clint laughed at her.

"Stop smiling," he remarked, not even bothering to hide how amused he was.

Natasha pursed her lips slightly. She used to hate that he laughed at her, but over time she actually started to like it. She knew he was laughing at her for enjoying the fight, but she also knew he loved the small smiles she would give during them. "You smile too," she reminded him. She has seen him smile on several occasions when he spotted or hit his target. Clint simply smirked in response before they both struck.

Each of their fists contacted with the other's arm, right before Natasha's knee hit Clint's thigh. Natasha grunted as he grabbed her leg, pulling it towards him slightly before pushing it outwards, she used the momentum and aimed a punch to his temple-He blocked it. Their eyes met for a mere second before an understand overcome them: upper-body only. They both know that Natasha could easily flip over and break somebody's neck with her legs. She could do that in her sleep. Having restrictions on what you could do always made things more challenging, it involved more thought and less instinct. She accepted his challenge with a smack of her arm against his, followed by a swift feint to the abdomen masking her true attack on the back of the neck. She was careful to remember to soften her blow to nothing more than a light tap while they were sparring when dealing with necks, but the point became moot as he twisted and caught her arm.

For the minutes that followed, the soles of their feet didn't exceed a centimeter from the ground. Fists connected with bare skin, elbows jabbed painfully into ribs, backs, and stomachs. Hands grabbed and clawed arms as they each attempted to throw the other down onto the mat. Natasha felt Clint's hand around her upper arm and knew he was about to swing her, she was ready to counter it when his movements halted. Taking the advantage and mentally thanking whatever distracted him, she twisted, grabbed in wrist and arm simultaneously before tumbling him onto his back. He became alert when she started moving and pulled her down on top of him. As they landed, she grabbed his wrists to hold him down, but stopped mid-grab— catching sight of what had distracted him. Kristina.

Kristina's head was poked through the bottom of the door, she was obviously crouched or laying down and watching them. Her eyes went wide when both Clint and Natasha looked directly at her and disappeared back into the lounge. Natasha and Clint looked at each other, a sigh leaving her lips as she pushed against his chest to stand up and pulled him up. She took a swig of water and stepped on the treadmill, "Have fun."

"Dinner in 40," Clint replied as he checked the time whilst collecting a towel for his sweat and a bottle of water before making his way up the stairs. Natasha absentminded waved off the information as she set the machine to a steady seven miles per hour and began a gentle run.

The next few hours was rather uneventful, they ate dinner and listened to Kristina talk about school. Clint then helped Kristina with whatever homework she was struggling with and hadn't finished before dinner, whilst Natasha sat at her laptop and assisted with Avenger-related things. She had gone down to the basement when Kristina started a movie, and from there she called Steve.

"Hello," Steve greeted as he answered the call.

"Just me," Natasha replied before jumping into why she called. "What's the status on the new recruits? Are they all in?"

"Yes. I just got back from visiting Wanda, and she agreed. Vision agreed straight away, as did Sam. Rhodey took some time to think it over, but agreed yesterday. When did you want to call them all in?" Steve replied.

Natasha was tempted to say immediately and was prepared to leave right then, when Clint walked down, "Kristina wants to talk to you." He informed her as he continued down the stairs.

"Let me think it over and I'll call you back," Natasha said.

"Don't forget to check with Clint," Steve said quickly before Natasha hung up on him.

"What about?" Natasha asked Clint as she slid her phone into her pocket. Clint merely shrugged and picked up his bow. She made her way up the stairs in search for her daughter. She instantly found her on the couch, "Everything okay?" she asked as she took a seat on the couch beside her.

Kristina nodded, "We just haven't talked properly, just me and you."

Natasha blinked, "You just wanted to talk- about what?" she asked. Preparing herself.

"Anything, everything," Kristina expressed, a kind, hopeful, and childish smile on her face, one barely tainted by the world around her. Even though she had been through a lot, she still didn't fully understand everything, but at the same time, she did.

"Maybe you could choose a more specific subject," Natasha suggested.

Kristina hummed as she thought for a moment, "Your favourite colour?"

Natasha blinked at the simple question, eight different ways this information could get her killed flickering through her head. Regardless, she replied. She herself, didn't even know if that was the true, honest answer, but she felt like it was, "Blue."

"Blue is a boy's colour. I like red," Kristina replied. Natasha frowned slightly, not at Kristina's comment about Natasha choosing a boy's colour. After all, she liked the colour because it reminded her of the never-ending sky, the ocean which covered most of the world, and Clint's eyes. But she frowned at Kristina's choice of colour, red, which reminded her of the Red Room, blood, and destruction. Although, she couldn't say that; it wasn't appropriate. Kristina asked another question after a few moment, she was obviously trying to work out what to ask, "Are you and Dad going to get married?"

"We are not engaged; therefore there are no plans to marry," Natasha replied simply.

"But will you ever get married? Then we'll be like a real family!" Kristina says.

Natasha looked at her face, her eyes scanning it and looking for signs regarding exactly what Kristina wanted from her, what she was expected to say. "Who do you want me to be?" she asked. It appeared Kristina wanted more than just a mother and father, but a bigger commitment. Marrying Clint and being more like a normal family was not something Natasha had agreed to when she decided to be a part of the girl's life.

Kristina's expression instantly changed to confused. Her lips parted, and it was obvious she was trying to work out what Natasha had just asked her. Natasha's gut clenched at the worry on Kristina's face when she couldn't work out firstly what she was being asked and secondly the distant tone Natasha had used.

"I used to do ballet." Natasha revealed simply, changing the subject away from marriage and what it implied as she answered Kristina's original request about knowing more about her. Ballet had been a big part of her life and even though it was used in conjunction with the Red Room training, she still loved it.

Kristina looked up, a new sort of confusion spreading across her face but it closely turned to fascination, curiosity, and wonder, "Really? You did ballet?"

"Yes," Natasha confirmed shortly, before forcing a natural-looking smile. She hated talking about anything personal, and even with her daughter she'd rather take on twenty guys with machine guns than continue this conversation.

"Can I do ballet?" Kristina asked, her face turning hopeful.

Natasha looked at Kristina, allowing a glimpse of surprise show on her face. She had known that Kristina was interesting in being exactly like her, or like the Black Widow she thought she knew about. But her being completely willing and wanting to do ballet and actually be like her, Natasha, not the Black Widow, not the expectation of what her mother would be like, but her; the person who gave birth to her, the one who was sitting in front of her right now. All she had to do was tell her one thing about herself, and Kristina had jumped at the opportunity to follow in her footsteps. She smiled at Kristina as she began nodding, "Of course you can." Kristina grinned and went to hug Natasha, who stopped her.

"I don't need a hug, just a smile," she informed Kristina, who opened her mouth in surprise as a massive smile appeared on her face. She seemed genuinely happy that she didn't need to show her appreciation so publicly all the time, but it also looked like she really wanted to hug her. Natasha opened her arms, not having the will to tell Kristina she didn't actually like hugging that much, but regardless of that, she caught Kristina in the hug.

Moments later, Kristina pulled back, "Can you teach me to fight too?"

Natasha smirked, "You father said no."

"Will he say no to ballet?" Kristina asked, her eyes filling with worry at the prospect of Clint stopping her from doing this activity.

"I wasn't planning on giving him the option," Natasha informed her. "I think it's time for you to get ready for bed; your father and I will meet you up there to tuck you in in a few minutes."

Kristina nodded, she stood up and ran up the stairs, a grin still planted on her face.

Later that night found Clint and Natasha laying side by side of the bed, both breathing deeply to regain their breath after the intense and intimate moment that had just shared. Natasha recovered moments before Clint and pulled the covers over both of them, even though neither of them needed it.

"When are you leaving?" Clint asked her, she turned her head and looked at him.

Natasha didn't even question how he knew she was planning on leaving, "Soon."

"Eight days," Clint spoke.

"Why eight days?"

"Because Kristina's birthday is in seven," Clint informed her. Natasha looked away from him and up to the ceiling. She did the mental calculations, her eyebrow furrowing slightly that she had forgotten that little fact. She refused to allow herself to even register what day Kristina was born, not wanting a specific day to remind her that she had a daughter. It makes sense for her to remember it now. "And, I want you to take a little longer to recover."

"9th April," Natasha spoke Kristina's birthday. "I'll leave on the 10th then." She agreed. She looked back at Clint, not saying anything about his comment about her recovering. They both knew that she would do anything for him. Although, at the same time, they both knew Clint first priority at the moment was Kristina.

Natasha hopped onto the kitchen side as she took a bite from the red apple she was holding. "That looks disgusting," she commented as she peered into the pan.

Clint swatted her thigh with the wooden spoon. "Shut it. It's about how it tastes," he responded as he pretended to not notice the kick she landed on his knee.

"What exactly is it meant to be?" Natasha questioned, pulling a face to present she thought it looked and smelled horrible.

"Stew," Clint replied, shortly.

"I'm going to eat out," Natasha informed him.

He glared at her, his head shaking with annoyed amusement. "You like my stew."

"If you say so- you said you wanted me to be honest," Natasha replied as a smirk appeared on her lips.

"I change my mind," Clint replied as he rolls his eyes and added a few herbs and spices into the mixture.

"Mmmmm, that smells delicious! You're the best cook ever," Natasha teased. She laughed when Clint sent her a look as he stirred the food quickly before putting the lid on.

"You are a terrible actress," Clint commented as he stood square in front of her. Natasha took a final bite of her apple and threw the core in the bin. "Tell me the truth- do you like my stew?"

"Of course, best stew I've ever had," Natasha replied, a smug look on her face as she seductively rested her hands on his shoulders. "You know I love your stew."

Clint's eyes narrowed, like he was actually trying to work out if she liked his stew or not, "Fourteen years, Nat- there's no way you could have pretended to like it for fourteen years," he said, although it sounded like he was trying to reassure himself.

"If you say so," Natasha replied with a smile. He stepped forward and she moved her hands around his neck, clasping them together before using them as leverage to pull his head forward and kissed him. She felt him move closer as his hands rested on her hips. She pulled back slightly, licking her lips and his at the same time. "How long until the stew burns?" she asked.

Clint groaned, he leant his forehead forward for a moment before leaning back slightly, "About eight minutes."

Natasha nodded, "Is that our lunch? Because it seems more like dinner." she questioned, seeing as it was only 11 A. M. and Kristina was at school.

"It is for dinner, but we agreed to take Kristina to the cinema to watch that new movie she wanted. As an early birthday present," Clint reminded her.

"No, you agreed," Natasha pointed out. "Besides, I've already sorted out my present for her. I don't need to torture myself with a silly child's movie."

"What did you buy her?" Clint inquired, showing curiosity and a bit of surprise.

"What did you buy her?" Natasha retorted. Clint had elected to not tell her what he had brought Kristina, just wrapped it and placed it in their bedroom closet.

"Clothes and trainers, it's what she asked for," Clint replied without reservation.

"I also brought her clothing," Natasha replied. "Now, are we going to discuss birthday presents, or are you going to stir your stew?"

"What happened to multi-tasking?"

Natasha simply smirked in response, "Hurry up and finish the stew." She met his eyes and allowed the lust to show, but there was always two types of lust, one she used for a mission and one she used with him. He had learnt the difference after a few years, when the look changed as they got closer. He took the pan off boil before taking her hands and pulling her from the side. "Stew's done."

I would be delighted if you reviewed! See it as a belated birthday present (Which was yesterday, my time :P)!