Author's Note: Wow, thank you all so much for reading and reviewing! I received a lot of chapter ideas. I'm going to do my best to incorporate as many as I can, seeing as how they're all hilarious and will be lots of fun to write! I apologize for the wait for this chapter. I was in a repeating state of writing and deleting.

I'm not affiliated with Two Little Red Hens. I couldn't find any information about its history, so I just made it up as I went along.

Day 3

Clint came bursting into the main living area, causing Steve to spill his coffee on his shirt and Bruce to nearly fall off his seat. Tony only wore a look of surprise.

"What's the rush? Early Bird trying to catch the worm?" Tony asked, "Sorry, but I think the Red-White-and-Blue Footed Booby here beat you to it." Steve glared at him.

"It's - Tasha," Clint said, catching his breath, "She's - she's on a rampage."

Steve's eyes went wide as he dabbed at the coffee stain on his shirt with a napkin. He and Bruce shared a look of worry.

"What do you mean, a rampage?" Bruce inquired.

"I mean she's a red-haired She Hulk."

"Then we'd better clear out before she -" Bruce was cut off by Natasha yelling from the opening elevator.

"Why the hell does Stark have so many floors in this goddamn building? Does he even use all of them?"

Steve audibly gulped. Natasha came storming into the living area.

"Stark! There you are. What the actual fuck is up with all your floors? Why do you even have them? Are they all entire floors dedicated to your various sexual partners?"

"You know, Romanoff, I was just wondering the same thing yesterday. Do they really bother you that much? Because if they do, I would be more than happy to demolish all of them, just to make you happy."

Steve, Bruce, and Clint looked at Tony like he had just asked an assassin to murder him. Which technically, he did.

Natasha stared at him for a moment, "Are you sassing me, Stark?" she asked slowly.

"Well, you could say that. I prefer to call it witty sarcasm, myself." he sniffed.

"Mister Stark. Do you not understand what is happening to me at this very moment in time? Do you even understand?" she spoke very slowly, enunciating each word, "To put it into terms that a lowlife such as yourself can understand, my uterus is falling out of my vagina."

At the mention of this, Steve rose from his seat and left the room.

"When I sneeze or cough, it feels like Niagara fucking Falls is in my pants," she continued, "I fall asleep with clean sheets and wake up with the Japanese flag."

Clint made a grossed out face.

"My boobs hurt like a mother fucker, and no, Clint, you may not massage them for me. I'm pissed off for a whole week and I can't control my moods which pisses me off even more, so it's an endless cycle of anger. Do you even know how that feels, you ass?"

Tony gulped. Natasha took a step closer to him, "Your jackass attitude is not helping my case in the slightest. Your very presence is beyond irritating to me. You're an ass to literally everyone, and your facial hair is ridiculous and it looks horrible."

Natasha took a final step toward Tony, her footsteps inaudible. She put her lips to his ear and said, just below a whisper, "If you so much as look at me for the rest of the week, I promise you that I will disengage that hunk of metal that's keeping you alive while you sleep and watch as the shrapnel finally finds its way into your heart, killing you slowly and very, very painfully."

It was then that Tony realized that she was holding a small, sharp knife to his chest.

"Run." she whispered.

And so he did.

XXXX

"A She Hulk? I do not understand." Thor bellowed.

"You know how Banner has this habit of turning into a 'big green rage monster,' as Tony is so fond of calling it?" Clint asked him. Thor nodded. "Yeah. A female version of that. Except red, not green."

"That is a truly terrifying sight. I do not wish to encounter that in my endeavors here on Midgard."

"Yeah, I'll say. She held a knife to Stark's chest. I could have sworn she was about to stab him. Not that I would mind, of course. Someone has to teach him a lesson eventually."

XXXX

Natasha couldn't sleep that night. She had been tossing and turning for the past hour and a half because she couldn't find a comfortable enough position. Her eyes were tired, but her body was restless.

On top of that, her cramps had started up again, which of course, made her back hurt like hell.

She had tried taking pain killers, but they didn't help as much as she would have liked. Clint had massaged her again, but he fell asleep before he could relieve the pain.

She looked at the clock for the umpteenth time. It was only 2:17. Why was she in bed so early? She never went to bed this early. 'Damn period, making me do weird things.' she thought to herself.

She was bored.

She wasn't in the mood to work out, practice her shooting, or watch movies. She wasn't going to wake anyone in the tower up, either. What good were they? None of them knew how she was feeling. What is the purpose of men if they can't even stay awake long enough to massage a woman who's in pain?

With a huff, she sat up and got out of bed. She put on a pair of black low-rise yoga pants, a deep red sports bra, and a loose grey shirt that had a faded American flag design on the front. Slipping on her sneakers, she grabbed her purse and jacket and headed out of the tower.

The cool night air felt good. It cooled her down immensely.

She looked left then right, and headed to her right. The streets of New York City weren't as crowded at night in this area, so she strolled along leisurely, looking in all of the darkened shop windows as she passed them.

She eventually found herself on 1652 2nd Avenue. She glanced at a small shop as she passed it, only to walk a few steps back so she was in front of it again.

It was a quaint little shop, and its sign read "Two Little Red Hens." she looked in the display cases, and saw tons of amazingly decorated cupcakes. She licked her lips. She could really go for a cupcake right now.

She saw that the sign on the door said that the shop was closed, but the lights were still on inside.

Curiosity getting to the best of her, she pushed the door, and to her surprise, it opened. A small bell chimed above her head as she opened the door all the way and took a step inside.

"Hello? Anyone in here?" she called out.

She heard a sound coming from the room in the back of the store, a small "Oh, bother," and the shuffling of feet that soon became louder.

An elderly woman poked her head out from the doorway, clearly surprised to see someone in the shop at this hour.

"Can I help you, dear?" the old woman asked with a kind voice.

"Is it too late to ask if I can buy a cupcake?" Natasha asked sheepishly.

"Oh, no! Not at all, dear," the woman said happily as she walked behind the counter, "Though I'm afraid they may be rather stale. They have been out almost all day."

Just as she said this, a woman who looked exactly the same as her emerged from the back room, dusting flour off of her green apron.

"Myrtle, did I just hear you almost give a customer a stale cupcake?" she asked.

Myrtle huffed and rolled her eyes childishly, "Marge, for heaven sake. What else can I do?"

"You could show the girl common courtesy and bake her a fresh cupcake!"

"Oh, you don't need to do that. I don't mind if it's a bit stale," Natasha assured the one named Marge.

"Nonsense. I will not sell a young woman who showed up at my store at three in the morning a stale cupcake." she said sternly, "I was just about to whip up a batch, but I wasn't sure what flavor to make. Would you like to help me?"

Natasha hadn't expected her to say that, and she certainly hadn't expected Marge to ask her so quickly. Nevertheless, Natasha smiled. At last, something to do!

She looked back and forth between the two women, who were both looking at her expectantly, "Sure. That sounds like fun."

"Oh, wonderful! Come, come, follow me." Marge ushered her over, and she led Natasha to the kitchen.

The kitchen didn't look anything like she had expected. She had assumed that it would have some stainless steel ovens and chrome countertops covered in high-tech cooking appliances. Instead, the kitchen had one large stove, and the countertops were marble. Shelves were lined with bowls, cupcake trays, cookie trays, and cake tins. The sink was filled with soap bubbles, and it looked as though one of the elderly women had been cleaning the dishes before she had come in.

Marge pulled a large binder off of a small bookshelf that was just inside the door and to the right. She set it on the table in the middle of the room and sat down. Natasha followed suit.

"Now, what flavor cupcake are you in the mood for?"

XXXX

"Ah, I see, I see. I still remember how much trouble it can be, even though it's been so many years since it last happened." Marge sympathized.

"You had the worst ones, Marge. You would always get so angry! It was hell to be your twin during those times." Myrtle told her.

Natasha laughed. The cupcakes were baking, and the answer to the question "Now, tell me. Why are you out this late at night?" had turned into a "Back when I was your age" discussion.

"Yes, I'll admit it. I had such a temper, and it would only get worse when it was that time of the month."

"But it was so fun when we were both having the same moods, and we would huddle around a book and just cry or laugh at what we were reading."

"I remember that very well. We would read Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's books and pretend that we were both Sherlock Holmes!" both of the women laughed at that memory.

Their laughter died down, and after a moment of silence, Marge stood up, "Would either of you like something to drink?"

"The usual Rosemary tea for me."

Marge turned to Natasha, "And for you?"

"I'll take some hot chocolate."

"Very well, dear. I'll put on the kettle." the old woman bustled away.

"So I've answered your questions, how about you answer mine?" Natasha asked Myrtle.

"Oh, of course. I bet you want to know why my sister and I are awake at such an hour." she said as she glanced at the analog clock above the bookshelf. It was now 3:07.

"Actually, I was." Natasha chuckled.

"I thought you might ask. My sister suffers from insomnia. She acquired it after her husband died when she was only forty-two. Said she couldn't sleep at night without him there," Myrtle sighed, "I let her move in with me when it happened. Our children were already out of the house by then, so it was much easier to care for her. She was a mess. Ever since then, I've stayed up with her every night that she couldn't sleep. I felt so badly for her, and I still do. She's gotten better, though. Much better. It's been thirty-one years since then."

"Oh, that's terrible. Is she unable to sleep tonight, then?"

"You're correct. That, and she had an overwhelming urge to bake tonight." Natasha laughed at that.

"Well, I'm glad she's gotten better over the years. Was it hard for you to stay up with her?"

"For the first year it was. I got sick a handful of times due to the lack of sleep, but I managed to pull through."

"That's understandable. I have a pretty messed up sleep schedule, too. My job requires me to be available at all hours. I've been at it almost my entire life, though, so I'm completely used to it."

"Heaven's sake, what could you possibly do that would require you to work for almost your entire life?"

"It's... Complicated. I'm not at liberty to divulge that information."

"That's alright, I understand."

Marge trotted back over to them with a tray holding three mugs. She set it down on the table and sat down.

"Here you are, dear. One mug of hot chocolate, with marshmallows." Marge smiled warmly and handed Natasha the mug, who accepted it graciously.

"Mmm, thank you. It smells delicious," she tool a small sip, "And it tastes even better!"

"I do hope it's not too hot."

"Oh, no. It's perfect. Thank you." Natasha smiled again and took another sip.

XXXX

"Thank you so much for the cupcake and hot chocolate," Natasha said to Marge and Myrtle, "I feel much better now."

"Not at all, dear! It was our pleasure." Marge told her.

"You're welcome here anytime, Natasha. Bring your friends sometime, too!" Myrtle said.

"Believe me, I will. They would love this shop." she told them as she opened the door and the small bell chimed, "I'll come back soon! Thank you, again. I really appreciate this."

"Like I said, it was our pleasure. Now go and enjoy the rest of your night." Marge told her.

"You, too. Good night!" Natasha stepped out of the store and closed the door behind her.

XXXX

Author's Note: I'm thinking of doing a "Later that night..." chapter. In that chapter, Natasha would find her way into SHIELD Headquarters, meet up with Phil, and he would take care of her that night. Nothing sexual, just friendship. What do you think?