Ah well, the story is nearly down anyway, so why wait a week? I'll update every few days just to give me enough time to wrap up the next chap properly. This is 8 chapters long after all..
And the gap in time is voluntary. I was more interested in writing the 'after' more than in 'in-between'...
Thank you for the reviews :)
Unbeta-ed work, so all mistakes are mine!
Criminal
1
4 years later
Something solid nuzzled her shoulder, stirring her from sleep. A warm shape ran over her hip and under the shirt she used for sleep. Natasha hummed and relaxed back against a solid chest. Two fingers trailed over her stomach before finding their goal between her thighs.
"Clint-" she whispered –she wasn't quite awake yet. He didn't wait for an answer and started stroking her. Her breath got caught in her throat and she moaned gently, hips moving slightly to accompany the friction. A soft chuckle ticked her ear.
"Shhh," an equally quiet voice replied, and the two teasing fingers disappeared inside her without much foreplay. Natasha gasped and arched back against her lover as he used his free arm to stabilize her hip. "Easy, love."
His fingers pumped inside and out a couple times until she was wet and ready; there he rolled her on her back and parted her legs. Through sleepy eyes, Natasha met Clint's cocky grin. She automatically wrapped her arms around his neck as he brought her leg over his waist and gently eased his way into her. Making love was his favorite way to wake her up in the morning; and since he claimed watching her come from an orgasm was what gave him the kicks, she wasn't one to complain. She ran her hand through his hair as he moved between her thighs, whispering endearments in her ear. Natasha shuddered when she reached her peak, each moan swallowed by his lips. He released her, rolled on his side and cuddled her, smiling against her shoulder.
"Good morning love," he whispered, kissing the skin at the nape of her neck. Natasha stretched her limbs and sighed in content.
"Hey," she replied lazily. "Slept well?"
He opened her mouth to reply but was interrupted by a discontent whimper and a growing cry. They shared a smile both amused and exasperated.
"Stay in bed, I'll go get her," Clint said and left the bed. Natasha admired his naked butt as he put his boxers back on and exited the bedroom. She shifted to stand in a sitting position, back against her pillow, waiting for her lover's return. He came back with a struggling baby in his arms, speaking soft words in attempt to calm her. She watched with a half-smile as his tactic failed, the little being too hungry to be reasonable.
"She's as stubborn as you are," Clint complained, sitting and handing her the baby. Natasha took her daughter in her arms and pressed her against her breast. The baby found her nipple easily and started sucking. When she glanced back at him, Clint wore that look she had yet to decipher on his face. It was a mix between contentment and wonder, like he couldn't fathom why he was here, if he truly belonged there, but couldn't find the will to run away.
Four years together and sometimes, she still couldn't quite read him.
"What is it?" she asked, watching him side-glance.
"Nothing," he replied quietly and watched the baby feed. He tentatively reached out to brush the back of her head where whips of red curls were starting to appear. "She's gonna have your hair."
At first, the news of her pregnancy hadn't gone…well.
Clint had made it clear from the beginning that he didn't have the father vibe and could do without a child. Natasha, for past reasons, had agreed at the time. But once they had been facing the fact…a part of her had wanted to abort but the other, a stronger part that she had imagined, had wanted to keep it. Clint had assured her that whatever she'd chose he would stick with her; even though the idea of a baby wasn't quite welcomed. It had taken her a few weeks to get used to the idea, while he had freaked out for months before accepting he was soon going to be a father. And once Jordan Alice Barton-Romanoff had been born, Clint had seemed ready to endorse his role.
So far, Natasha thought he was doing a very decent job; even if sometimes he still looked awkward and uneasy holding that little girl.
"She'll have your nose," Natasha added with a small smile. Her lover made a noncommittal noise and kissed her temple. He slipped on the mattress next to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
"Hopefully not," he retorted, touching said part of his anatomy. "I don't want to burden her with that."
Natasha chuckled and relaxed against him. A little later, the baby released her nipple and snorted loudly to signal she was done. Clint took her back for a burp and a nappy change. Natasha's alarm about ready to ring, she left the bed and headed to the bathroom. She showered, put on her clothes and headed down to the kitchen. Clint was already fixing breakfast, still in just his sweatpants and a 'kiss-the-cook' apron.
"Nice suit," Clint commented appreciatively, eyeing her shamelessly. She returned his look with a raised eyebrow. "What do you think Jordie? Ain't your mom gorgeous?"
The baby glanced at her father at hearing her name and smiled a toothless grin. They sat around the table and ate in a silence only broken by Jordan's occasional 'uh'-ing. Natasha packed her lunch and finished getting ready for the day. Before she left, Clint leaned forwards and gave her a hot kiss.
"Please let them have nothing but peace on earth so I can get my woman in bed all day long," he muttered against her lips. Natasha chuckled and pecked him back.
"Till that day comes…" she whispered, then asked: "Are you staying late at the range?"
"Yeah, probably. I have sponsors stopping by later. Don't worry, I gave Wanda a head's up."
Natasha kissed his cheek in encouragement.
"I should get home early, leave the dinner to me." Then she patted his shoulder and headed out. When she glanced over her shoulder for one last goodbye, he was still staring at her with a heated gaze that told her she better leave now or be half an hour late.
Needless to say, she was late.
Natasha reached the FBI headquarters in a very good mood, which of course, caught the attention of her partner. Since Hand had moved to another section, she had been assigned to Antony 'Tony' Stark, the arrogant son of a billionaire with a knack for playing detective. He had tried to go through the official channels at first, but after managed to piss off every instructor at the exam, Stark was denied an entry at the FBI. Then he had forced his way by showing up on sites and solving fifteen cases of variable degrees faster than agents on the field. Seeing the obvious potential, the higher-ups had made an exception for him and allowed him in the building under consulting contract. Stark was allowed in, but only accompanied by a partner who turned out to be the only agent who had so far managed to hold her own against him. Otherwise said, her.
"You need to stop fucking your boyfriend every morning," Stark greeted with a smirk as she pushed the door open. He was already at his desk, folding paperwork in origami. "Or we're all going to be jealous."
Stark had his eyes set on the CEO of his company, a fabulous Miss Virginia Potts. While she was freaking competent, she was also freaking insensitive at his advances, which infuriated him a lot.
"Potts still didn't let you get any?" Natasha asked teasingly. Stark rolled his eyes and muttered something along 'smartass' or 'aren't you cute'. "You know, that might be good practice in case you get kids. Clint didn't get much half of my pregnancy," she went on, enjoying the slight discomfort on his face at her words. "Although…I did give him loads of blowjobs to make up for the lack of intercourse."
"TMI, TMI, you win," he cut her, waving his hand in surrender. "But I'm still not filling the reports for the All Star snafu. Timmy's poor response time is to blame."
"Wha-teh-ver," she replied dryly. She had no intention of filling that file either.
They didn't have time to argue further about who should work on the report, as their door opened and let their superior in. Melinda May was a woman in her mid forties with a solid background and successful career. A regrettable accident had made her abandon the field for good, but she had recently agreed to take a far higher post to oversee missions from her office.
"A new case?" Natasha asked, vaguely disappointed. Maybe she'd have to ask Clint to cook after all. May nodded firmly.
"Double, maybe triple homicide."
Natasha took the files and opened them for a quick read. Two former military officers found shot in a backstreet two weeks prior. Both had been hit in the head, exit wounds, but no bullet had been found despite marks of impact on the wall. The blood pattern on the ground had confirmed the crime had occurred right where the bodies had been found, but the place was empty when the scene occurred. So far, they didn't have much to go forth with. The previous investigators had made good research but hadn't come with enough clues to actually get somewhere.
"Why does this case falls in FBI jurisdiction?"
"Those two were part of a strike team in Afghanistan. When the initial investigators tried to contact other members back then, they realized most were dead. Latest found is Bobbi Morse, in Alabama, who has drowned three months ago. And more recently a certain Garrett had been stabbed in Florida."
"State crossing, hello FBI," Stark whistled.
"One of the remaining members of that team is FBI," May added. "And he requested to be assigned this case. As he is…intimately concerned, he has to be integrated to a team."
"Is there a risk of him being targeted?" Natasha asked.
"It's a probability, but that's not why he was allowed to work on this. From what I heard, he used a lot of favors to get an in, and asked to be partnered with you." her last words were focused on Natasha. The redhead raised an intrigued eyebrow and nodded for her to continue. "I assume you are familiar with Steve Rogers?"
Natasha was fast to find an empty office. She slammed the door behind her, held herself on the edge of the desk inside and breathed in and out slowly. Darting out of your office in the middle of a briefing with your boss was not regarded as exactly normal, especially from her. But right now, she couldn't care less.
Steve Rogers was coming here. Steve Rogers, the man she had been married to for four years, the man who broke her instead of healing her, was coming here. Pictures ran through her mind, of closets and harsh hands, smiles and shouts linked altogether and laughs that could be angry or happy or cruel. In those moments, she couldn't tell apart the past and the present, her time at the orphanage and with her uncle and with Steve and with the FBI and–
She couldn't breathe. Her vision was swarming, her throat tightening, her hands shaking. She wanted to rip every piece of furniture apart. She wanted to fall on the floor and cry her eyes out. She wanted to scream herself raw.
This kind of episode hadn't happened to her in months.
Natasha fumbled to check her pockets and pulled out her cell phone with trembling hands. She pressed Clint's number on speed dial and brought the phone to her ear, slipping into a seated position against the wall in attempt to control her irregular breathing. The tone rang three or four times before he picked up.
"Hey Tasha." The sound of his voice stirred something inside her and she found herself nearly choking in relief. "Tasha?"
"Hey," she replied weakly, knowing he would figure out what was going on before she had to explain.
"Do you need me to come over?" he asked instead. Natasha swallowed hard and forced herself to breathe normally.
"I hear your voice; it's enough," she replied quietly, closing her eyes and resting her head against the wall. "H-how are you?"
"Drowning in paperwork," he said, keeping his tone soft and light. She could hear shots in the background. "Most students are gun and rifle users. I don't have many archers this morning."
"What time do your sponsors arrive today already?"
"Two pm. Probably three."
They chatted about small nothings until her breath was truly under control and the trembling had ceased.
"Thanks Clint," she said once she felt ready. "Sorry for disturbing your work."
"What triggered it this time?" he asked straight ahead, not bothering accepting the apology.
"Can we talk about this later?" Natasha muttered. "I'm fine, it won't happen again. It was just a –just surprising news, that all."
"Surprising news that triggered an episode?" his voice was skeptical but accepting. "I want to know everything tonight, okay?"
"I promise," she replied gently. She hadn't expected such a violent reaction. Steve hadn't been a trigger for a while, but she supposed the stress linked to Jordan's birth, her recent return on the field and the suddenness of the announcement had done it. "See you tonight."
They hung up and Natasha returned to her office, ready to apologize to her boss. She didn't make it far though. Barely halfway to her goal, she was stopped by the very reason why she nearly had a panic attack.
"Hey Natasha, it's nice to see you."
She stared at him up and down. Steve Rogers hadn't changed much from the last time she'd seen him. He was still tall with short blonde hair, well-built and good-looking with a blue gaze than gave him an open and friendly appearance. Female and some male coworkers gawked from the corner of the eye when he walked by. And, worst of all, he looked genuinely happy to see her. Natasha couldn't say the same.
"Rogers," she greeted coolly. "I heard you are crashing the investigation."
He had the gall to wince slightly and scratch his hair in embarrassment.
"I won't be too much of a bother. It's just that I knew most of them and I'd like to know why someone had gone after them. But I heard you were the best the FBI had, so…"
Natasha had to blink at that.
"So you not only pulled a favor to be on the case, but you specifically requested me to be on it?"
"I would have rather not have Stark, but I was told you two came in a package deal."
Oh she was going to strangle May with her bare hands, boss or not. That woman knew of her history.
"And what made you think I would cooperate?" she asked coldly.
"I told Agent May that you were less likely to bow to each request of mine. And that we wouldn't have troubles working together, as we use to be-"
"You are entirely right on the fact that I will never bow to your…requests," she snapped back, cutting him before he could spill the beans in front of her colleagues. "But you are sorely mistaken on whether I'd be willing to work with you on that one." She breathed in deeply and rubbed her eyes, already feeling a headache forming. "May didn't give me a choice on that matter."
The blonde's good mood seemed to falter a little.
"I was hoping you would be happier to see me."
Natasha sincerely hoped Stark would hold her back and prevent her from stabbing him. Or at least help her hide the body. She couldn't believe how that man could have put her in such an emotional state barely ten minutes earlier. She felt so angry at him now…
"You hoped wrong," she snapped back and walked passed him, heading towards her office. With some luck, Stark wouldn't have left yet.
Thankfully, the man was still in there, as well as May. Natasha sent a glare to the latter and a warning glance to the former. Steve stepped behind and entered in turn, his presence filling the room in a snap of the fingers.
"Captain America! What an honor!" Stark shrieked with glee; but using that particular tone when he found a new chew toy. From the moment her ex-husband and her current partner made eye contact, the redhead knew she would probably be the one helping Stark to hide Steve's body. The dislike seemed reciprocated as Steve frowned and muttered a courteous but rather frigid 'Stark'. In the corner of the room, May made a face.
Natasha couldn't help but smirk inwardly. Maybe she wouldn't hurt May after all; fixing the downfall with those two on her back would definitively be punishment enough.