You know I always as you guys what you think the couple of the story should have, but I always know what they're gonna have anyways lol. Like Nat and Clint. I knew what they were gonna have back when I was still writing Stork brings a Stark. Even picked out a name for the baby. But now it's time for you all to find out what they're having. Happy reading!

"Nat, come on, don't be mad with me," Clint said as he sat on the edge of the bed, pulling on his sneakers. "I said I was sorry."

"And I answered you," she said curtly, not looking away from the mirror as she brushed her hair. She knew that she was being irrational, that her hormones were making her way angrier with Clint than she normally would have been, that there was no need to be so angry since he was home safe, but she was pissed off and cranky so he was going to have to deal with it. She missed the days of being the stoic Black Widow who never let anything get under her skin, but those days were long gone. 'Stupid godforsaken mood swings.'

"I heard you; I really don't think you should use that type of language around the baby," he said, smirking. He narrowly avoided the hairbrush thrown at his face, dodging it at the last second. "Tasha-"

"Don't Tasha me, Barton," she interrupted him. "You said you were gonna be home and you weren't home. I was worried over you, Clint. You told me before you left that you would be careful-"

"I was careful," Clint interjected.

"That you would come home safe-"

"I did come home safe; I didn't even get hurt."

"That you would be back in two days-"

"I did make it back in two days like I promised," he interrupted.

"And that you would call me if you were going to be late," she said coldly, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Yeah, I kinda screwed up on that last part," he said sheepishly. "Three out of four isn't too bad though."

"You're absolutely impossible, Barton," Natasha said harshly. "I wasn't the one who asked you to call me; you said you would call me. No one had to twist your arm over it; you made that choice. If this situation was reversed you would have been having kittens over me not calling you."

Clint sighed, walking over to Natasha. "Nat, I really am sorry," he said sincerely. "I didn't mean to worry you so much; I should have called."

"Yeah, whatever Barton," she replied, turning away from him.

Clint knelt down in front of her, his hands holding onto her hips as he leaned his forehead against her stomach. "Come on, squirt, help your dad out," he pleaded, kissing her stomach. "Tell her I'm sorry and not to be angry with me."

"Do not bring our child into it, Clint. It's your fault, not theirs that I'm pissed off with- ouch!" she exclaimed, her hand going to her side. "Jesus kid, there's no need to kick me that hard."

"Squirt must not like it when we fight," Clint replied, rubbing the side of Natasha's stomach. He took the kick against his hand as an affirmative answer. "Okay no more fighting before the baby breaks your ribs or something."

"That'd be my luck, get my ribs broken by my baby's kicking," she muttered before her eyes widened in surprise. "Clint…the baby kicked. That was the baby's first kick."

Clint laughed happily, kissing her stomach before getting up and hugging Natasha. "Didn't I tell you our kid would be fine, Nat? Squirt must have just over slept, that's why they were taking so long to move. First kick."

"One less worry for me to tell the doctor about," she replied, her anger forgotten as she rubbed her stomach. "Good job, Squirt."

"Finish getting dressed, we've got an appointment to get to," Clint said, smiling at her.

"And how are you feeling, Mrs. Barton?" the doctor asked as she smoothed the cool gel onto Natasha's stomach.

Natasha jumped slightly as the gel touched her bare skin, squeezing Clint's hand momentarily. "I've been pretty okay. Heartburn's been a pain; you'd think I'm giving birth to a dragon, not a human."

"It happens to most women," she said sympathetically. "What about movement? Have you been feeling the baby moving around much?"

"He or she finally kicked today," Clint answered proudly, a smile stretching across his face. "Right before we left the house."

"Up until then I was only getting this fluttering sensation," Natasha added.

"Oh that's a very good sign," the doctor said, flipping on the ultrasound machine and placing the sensor against Natasha's stomach. "The baby's movements will be picking up from now on. If you go more than twenty-four hours without feeling something, a kick, a flutter, anything, you come right in. You should feel the baby every day. Now let's see what we've got."

Natasha squeezed Clint's hand tightly as the doctor moved the sensor around, her stomach filled with nervous butterflies. She never thought she would be in this position, waiting to see her child, her and Clint's child on the ultrasound screen.

"Do you want to know the sex of your child?" the doctor asked, looking at the anxious face of Clint and Natasha.

"Yes," Clint answered quickly. "We have to know."

The doctor laughed at his eagerness, nodding her head. "Well there's your baby," she said, pointing to the screen.

Clint laughed happily, kissing Natasha's hand. 'Holy crap, that's my kid. That's my kid,' he thought, his heart swelling with joy.

"You can see the head is right there. And there are the two legs…that's a hand right there, opening and closing. I guess he or she is waving to you," the doctor said softly. "It looks like you two are going to be having…a baby girl. Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Barton."

"A girl!" Clint exclaimed, his smile widening. "We're gonna have a daughter, Tasha."

Natasha was frozen in surprise, her eyes fixed on the ultrasound monitor. "Our little girl," she said quietly, a smile spreading across her face. "It's our little girl, Clint."

"Asgeir and Alex better watch out; our little one is gonna be a hurricane," he chuckled, kissing the side of Natasha's stomach. "Princess of the Tower."

A little princess to terrorize the tower with her parent's ninja skills, how cute ^.^ Reviews please.