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Chapter Text

Chapter One

September 2nd

Natasha's P. o. V:

I lay on my bed, silent tears trickling down my cheeks. Tomorrow is the first day of high school, which is stressful enough under normal circumstances, let alone in mine. One hand absently caresses my slightly swollen belly, thinking about the circumstances that led to the child forming in my stomach.

*flashback, two months ago*

Natasha's P. o. V:

I can feel my heat rushing through my system, flushing my skin, dilating my eyes. I know that it is to be expected. I did just turn thirteen a few weeks ago. However, nothing could have prepared me from the words that come out of my step-mother, Camille's, mouth. "You know that I am infertile. That's why I adopted you. I wish to have another child, but there is something so much simpler than adoption, now that you are maturing."

I shoot her a questioning look, wondering where the conversation is going. "I can see that you do not understand. I am going to have you bear me a child. You will conceive it, since I am unable to do so, but once it is born, I will become the sole caregiver. Mr. Richards has agreed to help me."

Mr. Richards is our neighbor. He's around 6'5", and is about 220 pounds. He always flirts with my step-mother, and I've caught him eyeing me on several different occasions.

He comes out of our kitchen, his eyes almost as dilated as mine. I can see the huge bulge in the front of his pants. A sheer sense of doom settles in my stomach, making me feel sick. "Go ahead and go to her bedroom. I will wait for you outside," my step-mother informs the large man. He nods and grabs me by my hand, dragging me to my own room.

I struggle, but am no match for his brute strength. He picks me up and carries me through the doorway, closing and locking the door behind him. He places me on my bed, on my hands and knees.

"Do not move," he commands. I have no choice but to obey, his voice carrying the power of the Alpha that he is. He takes rope and ties me to the bedposts, making it so that I am unable to move.

Once I am sufficiently restrained, Mr. Richards begins ripping my clothes off, overcome by the hormones in the air. I can do nothing but whimper and cry as he begins inserting his fingers into me.

When he has deemed me sufficiently slick, he removes his fingers and replaces them with his manhood. He slams into me, tearing my hymen and causing me to sob in pain. Not once does he slow, until his thrusts become erratic, and he fills me with a hot liquid.

I can feel his knot swelling, locking us together. I struggle to get away from him, but it is to no avail. Any movement at all hurts my already sore channel. Defeated, I freeze, waiting for the moment to end.

About ten minutes later, I can feel his knot going down, freeing me from him. He pulls out and begins to stroke himself lazily, bringing himself back into a hardened state. He stands over me, slowly stroking himself. At last, the inevitable happens.

His hot liquid spurts over my back, making me cringe with disgust. He rubs the juice into my skin, marking me, telling all other males to back away. My shoulders shake with sobs, my cheeks burning with humiliation.

When he is sure that my skin has absorbed all of his seed, he brings his teeth to my neck and bites down sharply, marking me as his. It will take the mark a few months to fade, more than enough time to ruin my life. It will never go away completely. When he is satisfied with his claim on me, he bends down again, sniffing the air.

He sniffs at my neck tenderly, and I have to bite back a snarl. He stands back up, satisfied with his work. As he unties me, he begins to talk. "Thankfully, this will not have to happen again. Your scent has already changed. You are going to bear my child." With that information, he leaves, closing the door behind him. I can hear him relaying the information to my step-mother before he leaves.

My door opens, and my step-mother sits at the end of the bed. "Really, it's for the best. You'll thank me for it, I just know it." I whip my head around, not caring that my eyes are red from crying.

"No, Camille. I will NEVER thank you for what you've done to me," I snarl, more tears coursing down my cheeks. Camille slaps me, hard. I bite my tongue to keep back an angry retort.

"I took you in when nobody wanted you. I gave you a home, food, a life. This is how you repay me? You're a selfish bitch. I can see that now, but you have served your purpose, so you may continue to live here." I shoot her a murderous look, calculating the best way to get rid of the life inside me.

"I can see that you are already planning to get rid of this child as soon as you can. As an Alpha, I forbid you to do anything that could harm this child in any way, whether it be direct or indirect. You must eat properly. You cannot endanger your life or the child's. Do you understand?" I nod, not bothering to conceal the hatred in my eyes. "Good." With that, she stands up and leaves me alone.

I grab a new pair of clothes and go into the bathroom. Once there, I lock the door and turn on the shower. While the water is warming, I examine the mark in my neck. It is a ragged mark, one that is sure to leave a scar. More tears trickle down my cheek, and I step into the shower, where I scrub my skin raw, trying to wash away the smell of the man who stole my childhood

*end flashback*

Natasha's P. o. V:

The tears stream down my face as I relive the memories. School is tomorrow, and I am already beginning to show. What am I going to do?

Chapter Text

Chapter Two

September 2nd

Clint's P. o. V:

Looking at the calendar on my wall elicits a sigh from me. Tomorrow is the first day of high school. Unlike most kids, however, I am dreading it. The scars on my body are proof that I haven't lived the blessed life that the others have. The scars set me apart, make me an outcast. Even as an Alpha, I will not fit in. As I trace a large, jagged scar on my arm, I remember back to when I got it.

*flashback, three months ago*

Once again, my step-father, Jack, has sent me out on a drug run. He claims that me getting him drugs is my payment to him for adopting me and allowing me to live under his roof.

My parents died in a freak car accident when I was really young. My brother and I were sent to the orphanage together, but my brother was adopted before I was. I spent the years alone at the orphanage, never really fitting in. My dad was teaching me how to shoot a bow and arrow before he died.

Thankfully, the orphanage allowed me to continue practicing, which helped me to cope with the loneliness. They even set up a mini archery range for me, and one of the men there mentored me on how to shoot.

During that time, I perfected the skill of archery, which scared many of the kids in the orphanage. Slowly, the few friends that I had managed to make drifted away, leaving me alone. For three years, I lived in the orphanage without any friends, waiting for someone to adopt me.

When my current step-father came in and said that he wanted to adopt me, I didn't hesitate. I didn't stop to think that it could be a worse situation that I was getting myself into. Thanks to my blind trust, I'm now in a worse position than I ever was in at the orphanage.

At first, living with him was okay. I didn't want to go back to the orphanage that I spent six years in, and I was thankful to be out. However, about a month after I was adopted, he starts showing his true colors.

He started drinking heavily, and was drunk more often than not. To top it off, he was an angry drunk, and he would beat me if I did something that displeased him. I was not allowed to speak unless spoken to. If I disobeyed, I was beaten.

When he discovered that I could defend myself with a bow and arrow, he bought me one, and made me start buying his drugs for him. Now, I have made countless deals, and have the scars to prove it.

I pull the hood up on my purple hoodie, although it is not cold enough to warrant wearing one. A quick glance at the street signs prove that I am on the correct corner. Sure enough, a bright red Corvette pulls up not five minutes later. Not exactly a vehicle for a stealthy getaway. Then again, if everything goes well, then they won't need to make a stealthy getaway.

A teenager, a little older than myself, jumps out of the car, also wearing a hoodie with the hood pulled up. He walks over to me and looks me up and down carefully. "Hawkeye?" I nod.

"Machete?" An involuntary shudder runs through me at the name. Street names are given for a reason, and I can see that his is well earned. The handle of the large knife sticks out of his waistband in obvious sight. I have my bow strapped across my back, hidden by my sweatshirt. However, I know that I can easily access it in a pinch. "Do you have the product?"

"Depends. Do you have the money?" I nod, wordlessly showing him the wad of cash. He takes it, counts the money, and then pulls out a small bag with white powder in the bottom. I take the bag, mentally appraising it to make sure that I got the amount that I paid for. When I am sure that I did, I turn and begin to walk away.

Just as I begin to walk, a searing pain rips through my upper arm. I whirl around, only to have a fist meet my face. I fall to the ground, wincing as I hear a sickening crunch. Without even looking, I can tell that my bow is now in at least two pieces. Cold panic runs through my veins. Without my bow, I am nearly defenseless. As quickly as I can, I scramble to my feet.

Strong arms circle around me and prevent me from running. I am shoved forward so that I come face to face with Machete. He slugs me on the cheek, causing my head to whip to the side. "I'll teach you to try and pay me off with counterfeit money!" he growls, punching me in the mouth. I jerk my head back, tasting the iron in my mouth.

He then brings his knee up to my stomach, causing me to retch in pain. The torment goes on for what seems like forever, but finally, Machete's goon drops me to the sidewalk. I can tell that I am badly bruised, but luckily, nothing is broken. Machete spits on me, then begins to saunter away.

"Consider this a warning. Next time you try to pay someone off with counterfeit money, remember this lesson. Consider yourself lucky." I lay on the ground, not daring to get up until I am sure that they are gone.

When they are out of sight, I slowly get up, pulling my sweatshirt off. Underneath, I am wearing a tee shirt, which does nothing to hide the wound on my arm. It is bleeding profusely, but I can see that it is just a flesh wound.

I take my sweatshirt and tightly bind it up, before looking at my bow. It is broken into three different pieces, and the arrows are completely smashed, broken beyond repair. I groan, considering the benefits of not going home. With a sigh, I realize that it is no use. Jack will just send the police after me, and I can't be found with the drugs on me. At last, I muster up the courage to begin the journey home.

When I finally get home, I retrieve the key from under the door mat and let myself in. Jack is sitting on the couch in the living room, waiting for me. "Did you get the drugs?" he asks, oblivious to my wounded state. I nod and wordlessly hand him the baggie. Without waiting for his reply, I turn, forgetting that my broken bow is still strapped to my back.

Jack lunges off if the couch and grabs me, before throwing me into a wall. I relax as much as I can, knowing that the impact will hurt less that way. He comes over and kicks me a few times in the ribs, but when he fails to get a reaction out of me, he goes and sits down again.

"Well, since you broke your bow, you don't get another one unless you buy it yourself. You're going to have to learn to defend yourself without one. Judging from how you look now, you obviously can't. You had better hope that you don't get into another fight." I whirl around, fire burning inside my belly.

"If you didn't give me fake bills, then I wouldn't have gotten into a fight, asshole!" I yell, not caring that it is probably the dumbest move that I've ever made. Surprisingly, Jack just chuckles.

"You'll pay for that later, you little bastard. Maybe one of the gangs will do me a favor and kill you. The biggest mistake of my life was adopting you, you little prick!" he screams, anger causing a vein in his temple to pulse. "You know what, I'm not the patient type. You're going to pay now!" Jack throws a nearby beer bottle at me, causing it to shatter against my bare arm.

I can feel the glass embedding into the cut on my arm, so I turn and run up the stairs, dodging the other beer bottles that Jack hurls at me. At last, I make it up the stairs and to my room, where I retrieve the first aid kit from under my bed.

With the tweezers, I begin removing the shards of glass from the cut, thankful that it will not need stitches. When I am sure that all of the glass is removed, I apply some Neosporin and wrap the wound with gauze. As I lay back on the bed, I make a decision. Starting tomorrow, I am going to learn to defend myself, bow and arrow or not.

*end flashback*

True to my word, I started to box, weight lift, anything I could do to strengthen myself. I got a job and saved enough money to take a martial arts class at the local gym. I learned how to shoot several different types of guns. Now, as of today, I have proved that I can defend myself in a fight, even without my bow and arrow.

However, I have enough money saved now to get a new bow, one that is even better than the one Jack gave me. Tomorrow, after school, I will go buy it. At least it will give me something to look forward to. With that thought in mind, I lay back against my pillow and fall asleep.

Chapter Text

Chapter Three

September 3rd

Natasha's P. o. V:

My alarm goes off at six o'clock, jarring me awake. With a groan, I roll and turn the annoying beeping off. Before I can fall back asleep, I force myself to get out of bed, quickly pulling on the clothes that I laid out the night before. When I have them on, I pull on a sweatshirt, brush my hair and teeth, and then go downstairs.

I only live about ten minutes away from the school, so I decide to walk. I'd rather walk than spend more time with Camille than I absolutely have to.

The air is crisp and cool, the grass sparkling with the morning dew. Already, the air is beginning to warm as the sun peeks over the horizon. It won't be long before I start sweating in my sweatshirt. Still, I refuse to take it off.

Anything that can muffle my scent or hide the mark on my neck is a welcome distraction. I'm willing to put up with a little discomfort if it helps me in the slightest.

I can hear kids already gathering in the school yard as I approach, all chattering with their friends, discussing the summer. I ignore the crowd, ducking my head and going straight into the school. I find my locker quickly, and then head to my first class, which happens to be Gym.

I breathe a sigh of relief when I notice that there is nobody inside the locker room yet. Quickly, I change into my gym clothes, which, thankfully, are loose-fitting, and then sit and wait for other people to start filing in.

The next person to walk in is a muscular kid with buzz-cut blonde hair and blue eyes. The hairs on my arm stand at attention as I take in the scars that cover his exposed arms. Everything about this boy screams danger, but I refuse to let myself shy away. He is obviously an Alpha, and I cannot afford to be seen as weak.

Finally, I muster up the courage to speak. "I didn't know that this was Co-Ed." The boy shrugs.

"Alphas and Betas are allowed to have classes together. The Omegas are separated."

"That's stupid," I grumble. "Omegas have every right to be in the same classes as us."

"It's for their own good. If they were to spontaneously go into heat in a room of Alphas or Betas, it wouldn't end well for them." I nod, then extend my hand.

"I'm Natasha." He takes my hand and shakes it, his grip firm, but not uncomfortable. I can feel the callouses on his hands, rough against my skin.

"Clint." More people come filing in, interrupting our conversation. Clint walks away, going to change into his gym clothes. I sit on the bench and wait for us to all go out into the gym.

About five minutes later, our coach comes out of the office and blows his whistle, telling us to head out to the gym and line up. I am the first one out, followed closely by Clint. We take our place on the line, standing side by side. The rest of the class saunters out, taking their sweet time.

I start up our conversation again. "So, Clint, what did you do this summer?" He shrugs and grunts noncommittally.

"Things." Before I can press further, our teacher comes into the class and blows his whistle.

"I'm Coach Coulson. Now, whether you like it or not, you're all going to participate. My job is to teach you the importance of physical fitness. I expect all of you to pay attention and try your best. Is this clear?" We all nod.

"Good. Now, I want you all to run five laps around the gym. When you finish that, you may get a drink and return to the gym. If any of you have health conditions that will affect your performance in this class, please let me know as soon as possible. Now, three, two, one, go!"

I start jogging, running side by side with Clint. We finish our first lap way ahead of everyone else. My training really paid off!

Before I know it, our five laps are over, and we're allowed to go get a drink. We do so, and then walk back into the gym. The entire class is still running, gasping for breath. I hear a low chuckle next to me. "That's what happens when you live such a blessed life. You don't know how to take care of yourself."

I can see his eyes roaming over me, looking for scars. "What's your story?" he asks curiously. I shrink back a bit, instantly closing up. He recognizes my change in demeanor and backs off. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't pry."

"It's okay. My past is just something that I'm not comfortable with."

"Tell me about it," Clint mumbles. The rest of our class starts returning from their water break, panting for breath. They give Clint and I a wide berth, although I'm pretty sure it's only because of Clint. I can see him inhaling shallowly a few times, and my blood runs cold.

He opens his mouth to speak, and I fight down the panic rising in my throat. However, Coach interrupts him, starting to give us a basic agenda of the class. Then, rules and procedures are covered. Finally, Coach releases us back to the locker rooms to change.

I grab my sweatshirt and throw it on, before changing back into my jeans. I can see people in Coach's office, no doubt telling him about their restrictions. I momentarily consider telling him about my pregnancy, but I'm sure he'll figure it out eventually, just as I'm sure that most of the school will find out soon enough.

Clint comes to stand next to me by the door as we wait for the bell to ring, releasing us to our next class. "Where are you heading next?" I show him my schedule. I am going to go to English next. Clint pulls out his schedule and shows it to me.

He has Math next hour, followed by History, Science, English, and Study Hall. My schedule is Gym, English, History, Math, Science, and Study Hall.

"Well, see you third hour." Clint nods just as the bell rings, and we both head in opposite directions to get prepared for our respective classes.

Chapter Text

Chapter Four

September 3rd

Natasha's P. o. V:

I head into English, where it is apparent that all we will be doing is going over rules and procedures for the class. I am seated next to a tall blonde with blue eyes. When there is a lull in the lecture, I turn to him, noticing that he had been glancing at me throughout the class. I extend my hand.

"Hi. I'm Natasha." Normally, I am not as outgoing, but I would like to make as many friends as I can before my pregnancy becomes known. He takes my hand gently and kisses it.

"Steve. Pleased to make your acquaintance." I smile, pleased with the genuine show of courtesy. Then, the teacher starts talking again, cutting off our conversation. I sit back in my seat, glad to know that there are some friendly people in the school.

Clint's P. o. V:

I sit in Math, thinking about Natasha. She was quiet, but she seemed to know how to take care of herself. I wonder what was so traumatic about her past that she refused to talk about it. She also seems to be self conscious about her body, although she seems to be in excellent shape.

There was also something...off...about her scent, but I couldn't place what. I'm looking forward to next hour when I can talk to her some more. Up until now, I have been tuning the teacher out, knowing that we were going to get the same lecture in every class.

Finally, the teacher stops talking and allows us to socialize with our neighbors. I am sitting next to a blonde that looks like a typical jock: all muscle, not too much brain. He turns and introduces himself to me. "I am Thor Odinson, and this is my adopted brother, Loki Laufeyson."

"Clint." Thor grabs me and pumps my arm, oblivious to the scars marring the skin.

"We shall become best of friends, Clint!" Loki rolls his eyes.

"Pardon my brother. He may be loud, but he's harmless, I promise." I nod, and then turn back to my desk. I want to try and make as many friends as I can, to try and combat the loneliness that has followed me throughout my life.

I tune the teacher out to the rest of the hour, waiting until it is time for History. At last, the bell rings, releasing us from the class. I am the first one out the door, so I quickly head to my locker and grab the items needs for history. Numbly, my feet carry me in the direction of the class, my mind elsewhere.

When I finally make it through the door, I realize that I am not alone in the classroom. Natasha has already picked her seat, far back in the corner of the room. I make my way over to her and sit down. She looks up at me in surprise. "Hi again." She nods in acknowledgement, but looks at me with guarded eyes.

I take a few more small sniffs of the air, trying to place her scent. I can smell her natural scent, which is clean, like the cold, crisp air of winter. However, on top of that, there is a lingering scent that is definitely not hers. It smells vaguely male, but the scent is definitely old. There is also another scent coloring her natural scent, but I cannot place what it is.

I notice that Natasha is staring at me slightly, and I duck my head in apology and embarrassment. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be so nosy," I apologize. Natasha nods yet again, accepting my apology. I open my mouth to try and ask her what the scent is, but other students start filing in, so I sit back and wait.

The bell rings a few minutes later, and our teacher walks in and introduces herself. "Hello. I am Ms. Hill, and I will be your History teacher this year." I resist the urge to roll my eyes. What else would she be doing? Ms. Hill launches into the rules and procedures, so I sit back and relax, tuning her out as well.

Natasha's P. o. V:

I know that Clint is starting to get curious about my scent, but I am putting off telling him for as long as possible. What can I tell him? Should I tell him that I was brutally raped, just so that my infertile step-mother could have another child? Should I tell him that my neighbor marked me as his, so that I wouldn't have a chance with any other males? Should I tell him how fucked up my home life is and watch him run away, not bothering to look back?

No, I don't want that. He seems to be a genuinely nice person, and one that I would rather have on my side than against me. After debating for a while, I decide to tell him a half truth.

I'll tell him that my step-mother is overprotective, and since I don't have a father, she had the neighbor mark me as his so that nobody else would dare to bother me. It seems plausible enough, and it's better than the full truth. I make a pact with myself to tell him after school.

The rest of the class passes quickly, and soon, the bell rings. Clint heads off to Science, and I go to Math. Once I get there, I choose my seat in the back of the room and wait for class to start.

Clint's P. o. V:

I take my seat in Science next to two brown haired boys. One has darker hair than the other, while the other has sort of a mousier colored hair. The dark haired boy stands up and extends his hand to me. "I'm Anthony Edward Stark, but you can call me Tony. This is my Science Bro, Bruce Banner." Bruce nods and offers a small smile.

"Hi, Tony, Bruce. I'm Clint Barton. Pleased to meet you." The boys both nod, and the rest of the class starts filing in. Our teacher follows the last few students in and begins going over the rules and procedures, just as the teachers before have done. I settle back in my seat and wait for class to be over. When it is, I go to English and wait for the class to be over so that I can go to Study Hall with Natasha.

Natasha's P. o. V:

I sit in the back of the class yet again, and wait for the rest of the class to start filing in. At last, the bell rings, marking the beginning of the period. The teacher files in, and begins handing out a copy of the rules and procedures. I take it, and quickly look it over. Since it is almost identical to the classes before, I tune the teacher out and wait for it to be time for Study Hall.

At last, the bell rings, releasing us from the room. I go to my locker, drop off my things, and go to the classroom. Unsurprisingly, Clint is already inside, sitting in the back, waiting for me. I take my seat next to him and lean back in my chair, allowing my sore back to relax. A quiet moan of relief escapes my lips. Clint chuckles slightly. "Feel better?" I nod, allowing a small smile to form on my lips as well.

"I do, thanks for asking."

"Do you mind if I ask you a sort of personal question?" I brace myself, but shake my head.

"No, go ahead."

"Well-," Clint starts, but he is interrupted by a student walking into the class. It is Steve, the guy I met in English this morning. He is followed in by two brown haired boys, who are followed by a blonde and a black haired boy. Steve comes over and sits by me, and the other guys sit around us. They introduce themselves as Tony, Bruce, Thor, and Loki.

I smile in greeting and introduce myself, pleased that there are a few friendly people in the school. More students start filing in, and they take their seats. The bell rings about a minute later, and the teacher walks in.

"This is Study Hall, and it is expected that you bring any homework you may have to this class. If you do not have any homework, you may bring a book to read, or something else to keep you busy. There is to be absolutely no talking, or homework will be assigned. Since it is the first day, and it is highly improbable that you has homework, you may get to know your fellow classmates for the rest of the hour. I will be at my desk if you need me."

As soon as our teacher turns his back to us, the entire class begins talking, calling out to their friends excitedly. I turn to Clint.

"Where do you live?"

"I live over on the west side of town," he admits reluctantly. I involuntarily shudder, although I figured that that was where he came from. That part of town is known for the drug deals and shooting, as well as the break-ins and gang fights. "Why did you want to know?"

"Well, since we keep getting interrupted, I was wondering if our houses were close enough together that we could walk part of the way home together. That way, we could talk without having to worry about being interrupted."

Clint considers my proposition. "Sure, why not. Where do you live?"

"I live about ten minutes away, on the southwest side of town. It's not a good neighborhood, but it's not awful, either." Clint nods, and we lapse into a silence. I start up a conversation with Steve, and Thor and Loki soon join in. Clint is talking to Tony and Bruce.

The hour passes quickly, and before I know it, the bell is ringing, dismissing us to go home. Clint and I walk out together, going to my locker first. I gather my belongings, and together, we walk to his locker. He quickly fills his backpack, and we both head towards the doors, ready to walk home. I steel myself for his questions, and we begin walking, having survived our first day of high school.

Chapter Text

Chapter Five

September 3rd

Natasha's P. o. V:

We walk in silence for a few minutes, waiting until we are completely off of school grounds before the questions begin flowing. Clint is the first one to muster up the courage to speak.

"So, about your scent. I can smell your original scent, but overlaying that, there's a distinctly male scent, but it is old. Would you be willing to explain why?" Clint asks, unasked questions dancing in his eyes. I duck my head, but begin speaking. The words come hesitantly at first, but soon begin pouring out of my mouth, as if some internal dam has been broken.

"I'm not sure if you know, but I'm adopted. I live with my step-mother, but I do not have a step-father. This summer, I went through my first heat. My step-mother is highly protective of me, and she wanted to make sure that if I went into heat again during the school year, that I would have some scent on me telling others to back off. Since I didn't have a step-father, she asked my neighbor to mark me," I whisper, shuddering at the memories.

I stop talking as I remember being thrown against the bed, unable to do anything as he rutted into me. A single tear trickles down my cheek, and I wipe it away angrily. The last time I allowed myself to cry was after my explosion with Camille, two months ago. After that, I vowed that she would never get another reaction out of me again.

There's just something about Clint that I can trust. I feel that I can open up to him, but I am still cautious to do so. I've only known him for one day, and I barely know anything about him. At last, I pull myself out of my thoughts. "I'm sorry, I just got caught up in the memories," I apologize, my voice sounding hollow and far away to my ears. Clint nods understandingly.

"It happens to me too, don't worry." I eye the scars on his arm.

"If you don't mind my asking, how did you get so many scars?" Instantly, Clint's eyes harden, and I back off. "I'm sorry, is that too personal?" Clint slowly exhales.

"No, you answered my question. I'll answer yours. I'm an orphan too, and I got into a few gang fights. In the area that I live, it's almost impossible not to be in some sort of a gang." I get the sense that he is holding something back from me, but I don't press the point. I look up, only to realize that we are really close to my home.

"Well, I'm almost home. We had better not let my step-mother see us together, or she'll flip out," I grumble bitterly. Clint nods understandingly.

"It's okay, I understand. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" I nod, then begin walking towards my house.

"See you first hour." Clint continues walking as I turn up my driveway. As I unlock the front door, I look back one last time, to see Clint walking down the street. With a sigh, I open the door, walk in, and close and lock it behind me. Camille is not home yet, so I decide to retire to my room.

I pull out my phone, but I am unsurprised when I see that I have no text messages. I resolve to ask for Clint's number tomorrow, just so I have someone to talk to. Maybe I'll even ask for Steve, Bruce, Tony, Thor, and Loki's numbers as well.

I can hear Camille walking in the door, so I get up and lock my door, sending a clear message to leave me alone. The air conditioning turns on, wafting my scent around the room. With a start, I realize that some of Clint's scent has clung to my clothes. Quickly, I grab a pair of pajamas and head to the bathroom. I lock the door and turn the shower on.

While I am waiting for the water to warm up, I strip, examining my naked body in the mirror. There is a slight bump sticking out from between my hips. I sigh in resignation, and then step into the shower.

The warm water feels heavenly, and I let it run over my body, washing away Clint's scent. After a few minutes, I grab the shampoo bottle and begin massaging some of the concoction into my red hair. I have let it grow out of its bob, so now, it hangs around my shoulders in loose, red curls.

When I have worked up a decent lather, I rinse, and then reach for the conditioner. As I work it through my hair, I begin thinking. How long will I be able to conceal my pregnancy? When it does come out, what will happen? Will I lose all of my newfound friends? Will Clint leave me behind, not bothering to listen to my story? I can feel my breathing accelerating, and I work to calm it down, realizing that panicking won't get me anywhere.

When I have calmed down enough, I quickly wash my body, rinse my hair one last time, and then shut the water off. After drying off, I get dressed and head back to my room, somehow managing to avoid Camille. I lock the door, and then go collapse on the bed, thinking about everything that happened today.

Clint's P. o. V:

I watch out of the corner of my eye as Natasha unlocks her door and enters her house. When I see the door close safely behind her, I change my course, heading towards the weapon store. Once there, I quickly retrieve the bow and arrows that I've had my eye on, bring it to the front desk, and pay for it in cash. Once that is done, I strap it across my back and begin walking back to my house, thinking about what Natasha told me.

I got the feeling that she wasn't being entirely truthful about her scent, but I'm glad that she opened up to me at all. Maybe as time progresses, and she learns to trust me, she'll tell me on her own. I don't blame her for having trust issues. Being an orphan for a while can really change a person, especially if that person didn't really fit in.

As I am thinking, I keep a watchful eye out for anyone that would want to hurt me. Thankfully, the streets are empty, and I make it home safely.

Jack is passed out on the couch, drunk, so I slip upstairs and go to my room. After dropping off my backpack in my room, I grab a pair of pajamas and head to the bathroom to shower.

The warm water trickles down my skin, tracing the scars that mar my back and arms. I sigh as I realize that I'll never have a normal life until I escape from this hellhole I call home. As long as I live in Jack's house, I have no chance of claiming the normal life that I've always longed to have. With this thought in mind, I collapse on my bed, waiting for morning to come so that I can escape, even if it's just for a few hours.

Chapter Text

Chapter Six

September 7th

Natasha's P. o. V:

The rest of the week passes with very few occurrences. I managed to keep my pregnancy a secret, and I got Clint, Thor, Loki, Bruce, Tony, and Steve's numbers. We've agreed to have a bonfire over the weekend. I've also begun to get closer to Clint, but I've kept quiet, fearing that my feelings are unrequited. I'm too scared of being rejected and losing one of the few friends that I have managed to make.

Clint and I walk to Study Hall together, thankful that it is Friday. After Monday, the teachers wasted no time in piling the homework on us. As a result, I've come to love Study Hall.

Once we get into the classroom, I can tell that something will be different. Our teacher is already in the room, holding a stack of papers. When the bell rings, and everyone is silent, he begins walking around the room, distributing the forms. I glance mine over when I get it.

It is a permission slip for the Sex Ed class that will be taking place the Monday after our weekend. I sigh, realizing that I'll have to actually have some form of interaction with Camille this weekend. Our teacher continues talking, explaining that we needed to get the forms filled out, or we would have to sit out in the hallway and complete a packet while the rest of the class was in the course. I roll my eyes and fold up the piece of paper, shoving it into my pocket. I can see Clint doing the same thing next to me.

Finally, our teacher stops talking, and we are allowed to begin with our homework. Clint and I work on our Math homework together, working through the different problems. Before we know it, the bell rings, signaling that class is over. We gather our items and walk back to our lockers together.

When we both have all of our supplies needed for the weekend, we exit the building, glad to have survived the first week of middle school.

Clint is the first one to speak. "So, how was your first week of high school?" I shrug.

"I guess it was okay. School is school." Clint nods in silent agreement.

"Are you looking forward to the bonfire this weekend?"

"You had better believe it! Anything to get me out of my house and away from Camille is a welcome relief!" Clint shoots me a look, and I bite my tongue, realizing that I've said too much. Clint doesn't know how much I hate Camille.

"If you don't mind me asking, is everything okay?" I wave him off.

"Yeah, yeah, everything's fine! Well, I'm home, so I guess I'll see you on Saturday. Have a safe walk home. Bye!" I call over my shoulder, practically sprinting towards my house. Clint watches until I get inside, as he always does, before beginning to walk away. I slump down against the door, cursing myself for letting my tongue slip.

There is a creak from the kitchen, and Camille exits. I hand her my permission slip, which she looks over wordlessly. Suddenly, she breaks out laughing, her entire body shaking with it. "They want me to give permission for you to go to a Sex Ed class?! Don't they realize that you could probably teach them? This is too funny!"

Anger floods through my system. Before I even realize what is happening, I am in my feet, in her face. I raise my hand to smack her, but manage to stop myself before I do. If I lay a hand on her, she won't hesitate to call the police and get me arrested.

Camille grabs my wrist, her larger hand easily circling my bones. She squeezes, hard, probably hard enough to leave a bruise. I struggle against her, trying to pull my arm back, but I am pinned up against the wall. Camille raises her hand to slap me, but I stare her down, daring her to give me a reason to retaliate. Slowly, she lowers her hand, a smirk on her face.

"Whatever. I think you've learned your lesson." Her hand squeezes even tighter around my wrist one last time, before she releases me. I rub my sore wrist and glare at her as she signs my form and thrusts it back at me. I take it from her, and then storm off to my room to unpack my backpack and get my remaining homework done.

When I get up to my room, I lock my door and throw my backpack on my bed, pulling my phone out of my pocket. I have two new messages. One is from Clint, asking if I am okay. The other is from Tony, reminding me to bring a bathing suit to the bonfire. My insides clench with dread, before I decide to just wear a shirt over my one piece. I text him back, thanking him for the reminder, before I return to Clint's text.

After careful deliberation, I finally decide to respond, apologizing for my behavior. When the text is sent, I begin working on my English homework. Thankfully, it is just vocabulary, so I am able to complete it fairly quickly.

After packing up my backpack and making sure that all of my homework is complete, I check my phone again. There is one message from Clint. It reads, "It's okay. If you don't want to talk about it, I can wait until you're ready."

A smile forms on my face and a feeling of warmth shoots through me as I quickly send back a response, saying, "We can talk at the bonfire. I'm going to take a shower and head to bed. Goodnight!" Clint sends back a goodnight text, so I throw my phone onto my bed and gather my sleeping clothes.

When I am sure that I have everything, I head to the bathroom, close the door, and begin to undress myself. I let out a startled gasp when I see my wrist. There is a thin band of purple going completely around the thinnest part of my wrist. With a sigh, I finish undressing, before stepping into the shower. The warm water pounds against my forehead, allowing me to relax and forget my stress over Camille.

I am in the shower for over a half hour, but I finally manage to drag my weary body out of the shower. After I dry off, get dressed, and brush my hair and teeth, I enter my room and collapse on my bed, falling asleep almost immediately.

Chapter Text

Chapter Seven

September 8th

Natasha's P. o. V:

I allow myself to sleep late, not bothering to set an alarm. Camille is already gone, no doubt at her "job." She claims to work downtown as a secretary, but I know that it's a lie. I know that she works as an "escort." Since she can't get pregnant, she has many clients. I sigh as I realize how screwed up my home life really is.

After making my bed, I gather up the things that I will need for the bonfire later. I grab my swimsuit, a towel, an extra shirt, a sweatshirt, and a few things needed for s'mores. When I am sure that I have everything, I check my phone. I have a text from Tony, asking if I wanted to meet up with them earlier to catch a movie before the bonfire. I quickly text back an affirmative. Tony texts me the details, and I gather around my stuff, preparing to begin walking to the theater. Just as I head down the stairs, the doorbell rings. I look through the peephole, and let out a sigh of relief as I realize that it's just Clint. After unlocking the door and opening it, Clint enters my house.

"So, this is your house, huh?" I nod, hiding my injured wrist behind my back. Clint gazes around the house appreciatively, before his eyes settle on the table. My blood runs cold as I realize that Camille has already started buying baby items. "Is your step-mom pregnant?" I nod, numbly, thankful that he saved me from the struggle of trying to come up with an explanation on the spot.

"She just found out."

"Well, I wish her well. Are you ready to go?" I nod, showing him the bag on my shoulder. Together, we walk back out towards the door. I let Clint exit before me, so that I can close and lock the door. When I am sure that the house is secure, Clint and I begin walking to the movie theater.

We walk in silence for a while, before Clint finally starts up the conversation again. "Are you looking forward to the movie?" I shrug.

"I'm just looking forward to getting out of the house," I admit. The fact that I don't like being home is already out in the open, so I figure that it can't do any more harm to admit it again. Clint glances over at me. "What's the matter?"

"What's so bad about your home life that makes you so reluctant to be at home?" I shrink back a little, reluctant to answer. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't pry. I'm worried about you. I know that it can be tough, being an orphan, growing up in a strange home. I just want to make sure you're okay." I manage to give him a smile.

"Thank you. Not many people care enough to ask." Clint nudges me gently with his shoulder.

"Hey, what are friends for?" I laugh, and then look up. We are in town already. I can see the movie theater a little ways up the street. Thor, Tony, Steve, Bruce, and Loki are standing in a group outside the entrance. Clint and I quicken our pace, eager to meet our friends.

"Come on, lovebirds!" Tony yells. I blush, wondering if my crush on Clint is that obvious. I glance over at Clint, discovering that he too, is blushing. A happy grin forms on my face as we meet our group and buy our tickets and snacks. We are going to see the new Paranormal Activity movie. I have butterflies in my stomach, nervous that I'll act like a total baby. Normally, scary movies don't upset me, but with changing hormones, I'm afraid of busting out in tears at any given moment. Clint squeezes me gently, and if sensing my thoughts.

"We can see a different movie, if you want," Clint offers. I smile, pleased with his offer.

"I'll be okay. Besides, what's the point of a horror movie if you aren't a little scared?" Clint nods in agreement as the rest of our group joins us, having retrieved their snacks and tickets. We give our tickets to the attendant and are directed to the correct theater. We all file down a row at the very top. I discover that Clint is next to me, and a small smile forms on my face. It is chilly in the theater, so I pull out my sweatshirt and put it on. I can see the rest of our group doing the same.

Finally, after about ten minutes, the preview ends, and the movie begins. I curl up in my seat as the events on the screen unfold. A door slams shut, and before I can stop myself, I reach over and grip his shoulder. Clint chuckles quietly and retrieves my hand, holding it in his own. A content grin forms on my face, and it stays there for the rest of the movie.

When the movie ends, we all step out into the bright sunlight, eyes squinted against the light. Since Tony doesn't live far from the theater, we all decide to walk to his house.

We reach it in about twenty minutes. After a short discussion, we all decide to change into our swim gear and go swimming. When we get out to the large, Olympic sized pool, Tony suggests that we play chicken. I do a quick head count, and find that we have an odd number of people. "I'll sit out first. We can play so that the first person to get knocked off sits out the next round," I offer. Everyone nods, and begins to pair up. Bruce and Tony pair up, Thor and Loki pair up, and Clint and Steve pair up as well. I sit on the side of the pool and watch the game begin to set up. Surprisingly, Steve is the first one knocked off, so he comes over to the side, along with Clint. While the other two teams battle it out, we decide who will make up the next team. Steve offers to sit out so that Clint and I can partner up for the next round.

Thor and Loki end up winning, so the partners remaining switch who is on top. Tony, Thor, and I both end up on top of our partner's shoulders. The game begins, and Clint steers me towards the middle of the pool. Thor and I end up nearest to each other, so I raise my hands, looking for an opening. Thor grabs me around my wrists, causing me to hiss in pain. I cover my pained look as best I can, fighting to free my hands. By some freak accident, I manage to push Thor down, leaving just Tony and Bruce to go up against. I struggle against them, trying to knock Tony off of Bruce's shoulders.

After about five minutes of grappling, I manage to pull Tony off, effectively winning the game. Everyone jumps back in the pool as we celebrate, before Clint grabs my arm and raises my hand in the air. Loki notices my wrist immediately.

"Are you okay? What happened? Did my brother squeeze too hard?" I glance at my wrist, pretending that it is the first time that I've seen the mark. I shrug it off casually.

"Probably, but it's not a huge deal. I bruise easily. Besides, it doesn't even hurt." That's a blatant lie, but I don't want everyone fussing around me. Thor looks worried, but I wave him off. "Seriously, I'm fine. Who's up for another round?"

We play in the pool for another two hours or so. By now, it is starting to get dark, so we all decide to get out of the pool and begin setting up our bonfire.

After about an hour, we have a nice sized fire burning. I bring out the s'more supplies, and we all begin roasting marshmallows. After we've made enough s'mores to feed a small army, we begin telling ghost stories, attempting to sneak up behind our friends and scare them. I manage to scare Clint twice, thanks to my stealthy walk. For the first time since I discovered that I was pregnant, I am truly happy.

Chapter Text

Chapter Eight

September 8th and 9th

Natasha's P. o. V:

As the night goes on, and the fire dies down, we all prepare to go to bed. I place my sleeping bag next to Clint's, and everyone settles in for the night. Within a few minutes, everyone is asleep besides Clint and I. "So, what did you want to talk about?" Clint wonders. "I know that you and your step-mom don't have the best relationship together, but it seems to run deeper than that. What's the matter?" I sigh.

"As you know, I was adopted. I've never really liked my step-mother. I don't bow down to her every wish, and she resents me for it. We've always butted heads, but this summer, it got worse. We got into a huge argument, and I told her that I hated her. Our relationship has been really tense since then," I admit, leaving out why we were arguing. I'm not ready for Clint to know yet. Clint reaches over and holds my hand.

"My home life hasn't been much better. My step-father adopted me. At first, it was okay, but soon, he started showing his true colors. He's drunk a lot, and he has a bad drug habit. I'm pretty good with a bow, and he started making me buy his drugs for him. I'm not exactly in a gang, but I have gotten my scars from gang members." I rub his hand with my thumb, my stomach roiling with guilt. He's bared his soul to me, when I still haven't been completely honest.

"I'm so sorry. I wish I could help you." Clint shakes his head.

"There's nothing we can do, so we might as well accept it and move on with our lives, right?" I nod and close my eyes, fighting back the tears that threaten to fall. If only that was possible. When I finally manage to open my eyes again, Clint's eyes are closed, and he is lightly snoring. I decide to close my eyes and sleep as well. "Goodnight, Clint," I whisper. "I love you." His hand tightens on mine, and I crack my eyes open. A smile spreads across his face. Before I can feel too embarrassed, however, he opens his mouth.

"I love you too, Tasha." A smile spreads over my face, and I fall asleep with Clint's hand still held in mine.

We wake up before anyone else the next morning. I blush and avert my eyes when we make eye contact. "Hey, I said that I loved you too. There's nothing to be embarrassed about." I slowly lift my eyes to look at him. He's smiling gently. I allow myself a small laugh.

"I guess you're right. Now, the question is to tell or not to tell." Before Clint can answer, someone else answers.

"You already told," Tony laughs. He is sitting upright, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. I shoot a guilty look a Clint.

"I guess I should have checked to see if anyone was up," I admit. Clint just smirks.

"Don't be too hard on yourself. I could have checked, too." Tony starts going around our circle of friends, waking everyone up.

"Guys, you missed it! Natasha and Clint finally admitted that they loved each other! Tony yells excitedly. Everyone begins to sit up slowly, rubbing the sleep out of their eyes. Loki is the first one to turn to us.

"Congrats, you guys. I was hoping that this would happen soon," he smiles. Thor tries to disentangle himself from his sleeping bag, hopping up to congratulate us. Unfortunately for him, he is not yet completely free of the sleeping bag, and he ends up crashing to the ground. I stifle a giggle behind my hand. Nobody else bothers to do so, instead choosing to laugh openly. Thor finally manages to free himself from the sleeping bag, before rushing over to us. He pulls Clint and I into a tight hug, cutting off both of our air supplies.

"Can't - breathe!" I manage to choke out. Thor releases us, and we both gulp in a breath of air. One by one, the rest of our friends come up and congratulate us. Bruce is the last to come up. He squeezes me tightly against him, pulling me close enough that he can whisper in my ear.

"Does Clint know?" he asks, before pulling away. All of the blood drains from my face. "Congrats, you two," Bruce says at his normal volume. Clint turns to me.

"Are you okay? You're really pale."

"I'm fine, just a bit tired." I yawn for effect. Clint shrugs, and we all turn towards the house, stomachs grumbling. I hang back a bit, letting the others go on ahead of me. How could Bruce possibly know? The small, rational voice in the back of my mind reasons that perhaps he isn't talking about my pregnancy. I seize ahold of the hope and quicken my pace so that I catch up with the rest of the group. They are talking avidly amongst themselves. I take the place to Clint's side, and we all enter Tony's giant house. Tony leads us to the kitchen, and we all begin digging into the food. I grab a glass of juice and a bowl of cereal, before sitting down at the table. I am the first one to sit, having picked a very simple lunch. Bruce comes next, sitting next to me. "What were you talking about earlier?" I ask him. Bruce quickly checks to make sure that everyone is sufficiently occupied, before answering me.

"Does Clint know that your step-mom abuses you?" My blood runs cold. Although he does not know the worst part, this is still not a conversation that I wanted to be having. I decide to play it off.

"What do you mean?" Bruce looks at me, unamused.

"You know exactly what I mean. I know that bruise could not have possibly been caused by Thor. It was far too dark, and the bruises were too thin to have been caused by Thor's fingers. Is this the first time that your step-mom has physically hurt you? Are there any more injuries that we should know about?" I mentally curse myself. I knew Bruce wanted to be a doctor, but I didn't count on him being so observant.

"This is the first time. There are no other injuries," I answer quickly, as the others begin to start sitting down. Clint takes the seat on the other side of me, and we all begin eating in silence, savoring the taste of the food. I see Bruce glancing over at me a couple of times during the meal, but thankfully, he doesn't say any more. After everyone finishes, we play board games for a few hours. As it gets closer to dinnertime, we all begin saying goodbye and leaving. Clint offers to walk me home, and I gratefully accept. We walk in silence, holding each other's hands, in no hurry to get to our houses. Too soon, we turn onto my street, and my house appears.

"Well, I guess this is goodbye," Clint mutters. I nod, regretting that the moment came so soon. Clint puts his hand under my chin, tilts my head up, and gives me a kiss. "I'll see you Monday. I love you."

"And I love you, too," I murmur against his lips. After a few seconds, we break apart, and I begin the walk up my driveway. Clint waits until he is sure that I made it inside safely before beginning the final leg of his journey home. I watch him go, thankful that Camille isn't home yet. She'd flip if she knew that I was hanging around with a boy alone. Not that it would matter, I think bitterly. The damage is already done.

Once inside, I unpack my bag and take a shower, washing the chlorine out of my hair, as well as the scents of my friends from my body. I watch as the water trickles over my swollen belly, diverting down the channels formed by my scars.

For a while, when I was going through an especially rough patch, I took to cutting. I was forced to open wounds on my stomach, so that Camille would not know what I was up to. When things started to get better, I managed to quit the habit. Now, as my pregnancy progresses, I'm tempted to take it up again. I shake my head, shaking away the gloomy thought.

I finish my shower and dry off, heading to my room to get dressed. I hear the door open downstairs as Camille returns home from work. A quick glance at the clock informs me that it is already seven o'clock. With a sigh, I head downstairs and quickly grab some food, being careful to avoid Camille. I have no desire to interact with her today.

After finishing off the food, I lay down on my bed, thinking about the events of the past day. My face breaks into a smile as I remember Clint and I finally confessing our love for each other. With this thought in mind, I close my eyes, realizing that I was more exhausted than I thought.

Chapter Text

Chapter Nine

September 10th

Natasha's P. o. V:

My alarm rudely wakes me up in the morning. I sit up and rub the sleep out of my eyes, before groaning. Today is the Sex Ed class. I roll out of bed, get dressed, and grab my backpack, making sure that the signed permission slip is inside. When I am certain that it is, I head downstairs and walk out the door. Luckily, Camille is already gone.

Clint meets me on the sidewalk in front of my house, and we walk to school together. Although it is not that chilly, I am wearing a turtleneck to hide the mark on my neck. Luckily, nobody noticed it when we were swimming at Tony's house.

We make it to the school fairly quickly, arriving before most of the other kids. Our other friends are there, so we gather around them. Immediately, the boys start joking around about the Sex Ed class. I force myself to laugh with them, even though my stomach is turning with dread.

Too soon, the bell rings, forcing us to go inside and start preparing for classes. At least we have a few classes before we have to go to the presentation. I quickly change in the locker room, keeping my tank top on the entire time. Although it does nothing to hide my swollen belly, it does help to conceal my self harm scars. Thankfully, everyone is too busy getting themselves ready to notice me.

Clint finishes close to the same time as I do, so we both head out into the gym together. Coulson has us run our warm-up laps while we wait for the rest of the class to come out. When we finish, Clint and I go get a drink, taking our time.

From experience, we know that the rest of the class will take at least another five minutes to be ready to continue class. I am pleased to discover that so far, my pregnancy has not been affecting my athletic ability.

Once the entire class has returned from their water breaks, we begin learning the rules for badminton. Clint and I immediately team up, before being matched against another pair of students. The hour flies by, with Clint and I easily beating our opponents. At the end of the hour, Clint and I walk out, heading to our respective lockers. I go to my second hour, knowing that I will soon be in a presentation that doesn't apply to me.

Sure enough, as soon as the bell rings, signaling the beginning of second hour, our teacher takes attendance, and then we all begin filing down to the auditorium. The girls are separated from the boys, much to my despair. I haven't bothered to get to know any of the girls, having become close friends with Clint, Steve, Bruce, Tony, Thor, and Loki.

As a result, I am stuck in line between two girls that I don't know. My permission slip is clutched tightly in my hand, getting more and more wrinkled as I get closer to the doors. At last, it is my turn to hand the woman my permission slip.

She takes it from my hand, looks it over, and looks at me. "Are you Natasha Romanoff?" I nod. She shakes my hand, then stiffens. I realize that she had just taken a deep breath, and my blood runs cold. However, she releases my hand and lets me continue into the auditorium without comment.

A wave of relief sweeps through me, but at the same time, unease grows within me. Why would she just let me go? With my mind on other matters, I follow my classmate down a row of seats. Luckily, I end up near the end, where it is easy enough to leave if I need to. With my stomach feeling as queasy as it does now, I have no doubt that I will more than likely be making a dash to the bathroom in the middle of the presentation.

Once everyone is seated, the lady begins her presentation, beginning by showing us a PowerPoint. I fidget through it, trying to pay attention, but failing miserably. Finally, the presenter gets to the slide on teenage pregnancy. It is clear that from the tone of her voice that she disproves of it. "Some teens are unable to wait until they are adults to have a sexual relationship with another person. Often, these foolish kids do not use protection, and they end up pregnant."

At this point, it seems like she is staring directly at me. "Although it may seem like torture not to have intercourse during your heat, it is far preferable to having to carry the child of someone you may not even know. Isn't that right, Natasha Romanoff?" Immediately, everyone's head swivels around to look at me.

I am truly nauseous now, so I get up and push my way to the end of the row. At the moment, I don't care that it directs all of the attention at me. All I care about is making it to the bathroom.

As soon as I get inside a stall and lock it, I let the contents of my stomach empty into the toilet bowl. The bile stings my throat, just as the tears sting my eyes. Why did she have to draw attention to me? It's not as if I chose for this to happen. I sit in the stall, just letting the tears run down my face.

I am not sure how much time passes before I hear the door open again. A group of girls walk in, having a conversation about the presentation. "I can't believe that she would just go have sex with anyone like that."

"It serves her right that she's pregnant."

"Slut." More tears drip down my face, but I refuse to make a sound. Eventually, they exit the bathroom, leaving me to cry in peace.

When I hear the bell ring, signaling the start of the next hour, I exit the bathroom stall. After rinsing out my mouth, I carefully crack open the door. The hallways are empty, much to my relief. I sneak to my locker, deciding that I'm just going to cut class for the rest of the day. However, when I reach my locker, someone is already there.

Clint.

I turn around and start walking away quickly, deciding that getting my things is not as important as avoiding Clint. To my despair, I hear footsteps behind me. I quicken my pace, heading towards the front doors. His footsteps quicken as well.

Throwing subtlety to the wind, I sprint to the front of the school, racing out the doors. Once I am outside, I slow to a walk, a deep weariness settling into my bones. I will have to face Clint eventually. I continue walking to a nearby tree, sinking to the ground with the tree at my back.

I watch as Clint approaches. Even from a distance, I can see that he looks upset. I close my eyes and lower my head, fighting back the tears that threaten to fall. Too soon, I hear Clint's footsteps approaching, stopping in front of me. I refuse to open my eyes, keeping me head down. After a couple of seconds, Clint speaks, his voice sounding torn with pain.

"Is it true?" Wordlessly, I nod my head, knowing that there is no use in denying it now. I hear a strangled noise coming from Clint's throat. Slowly, I raise my head, forcing myself to make eye contact with Clint. His eyes are swimming with raw emotion. Pain. Anger. Sadness. I drop my eyes again quickly. "Why?"

A single word, yet I have no answer. My world is falling apart, and there's not a single thing that I can do about it.

Chapter Text

Chapter Ten

September 10th

Natasha's P. o. V:

Clint stands in front of me, obviously still waiting for an answer. Tears stream down my face, and I wipe them away quickly. Suddenly, my mouth opens, and I begin talking, spilling everything that happened to me over the summer. Clint listens in silence. When I am finished, I force my turtleneck collar down, showing him the scar on my neck.

A growl rises in Clint's throat before he hurriedly forces it down. "I'll kill the bastard that did this to you," Clint snarls, eyes flashing in anger. His hands are shaking with his barely suppressed rage. At last, I force myself to raise my head and look at Clint.

His face is stony, but I can tell that the anger is not directed at me. I let out a sigh of relief and throw myself at him, circling my arms around him tightly. After he recovers from the shock of my action, he wraps his arms around me as well. We stand there for a few seconds, before I finally manage to find my voice.

"You mean - you're not mad at me?" I ask, hardly daring to hope. Clint shakes his head.

"I could never be mad about something like this. I'm sorry for immediately jumping to conclusions," he whispers into his hair. I'm surprised to feel tears falling on the top of my head. I keep my arms wrapped around Clint, fresh tears falling down my face. We stand together for a while, just holding each other, not talking. At last, we break apart. "Do you want to go back to class?"

"What hour is it?"

"It's probably around the end of sixth hour. We can head back in at Study Hall, when all of us will be together."

"They don't know what happened though, and I don't feel like explaining to the entire class what happened to me." Clint considers my proposition.

"That's true. We can wait out here and talk until they come out. I can text all of them to meet us here after school." I nod, allowing a small smile to form on my face.

"Thank you, Clint. Not many people would have listened to me." Clint shrugs, waving away my words.

"No problem. I love you, Tasha."

"And I love you," I reply, tilting my face up to kiss him. Clint kisses me back for a few seconds, before finally breaking away. He pulls out his phone, sends out a mass text, and then sits down. I sit down next to him. "What would you like to talk about?"

"It's up to you. I'll be happy to listen to anything you have to say." Before I can stop myself, the story of my childhood pours out of my mouth. I have never told anyone any of this before, but it's time Clint knew. I tell him about my life as an orphan, about Camille, about the rape, about the self harm scars.

Clint listens quietly, his eyes on my face the entire time. At the end of my story, I lift up my tank top, revealing my swollen and scarred belly. Clint's fingers gently trace the lines of the scars, following their distorted pattern. I laugh a little as his callused digits pass over a sensitive patch of skin. Clint smiles sadly.

"Of all people, why did this have to happen to you?" Tears prick my eyes, but I blink them away hurriedly.

"At least this'll all be over in about 7 months. After I give birth, the baby will be the sole responsibility of Camille. I'll be able to get back to my old life."

"There's that," Clint agrees, but he looks worried. He tries to hide it, but I catch the look.

"What's the matter?"

"It's just... You're only 13. Aren't you a bit worried?"

"No. Camille may not like me, but she would do anything to prevent anything from happening to this baby. I'll be fine." In reality, the same thoughts had crossed my mind. I know that my pelvis is not fully developed, which could make a vaginal delivery almost impossible. However, Camille will make sure that everything goes smoothly. She's had me on a vitamin regime and an eating plan since she found out I was pregnant. I highly doubt that she'll let all of that work go to waste.

Before Clint can respond, the bell rings, signaling the end of school. We wait for all of our friends to assemble, before beginning to walk to Tony's house. His parents aren't home, so we've all agreed to convene there. I don't bother to inform Camille of my whereabouts. She can call the cops if she wants to.

We walk to Tony's house in silence, the curiosity palpable in the air. I avoid everyones' eyes, trying to fight back the tears that spring to my eyes. They're my friends, and they have the right to know.

Too soon, we reach Tony's house. We walk inside, heading towards Tony's room. We all settle in on the various seats around the room. Everyone looks at me expectantly.

"Well, I guess I should start out by asking what you all heard." Everyone shifts around uncomfortably. Tony is the first to speak.

"I passed a group of girls, and they were talking about how someone is a slut. I didn't hear who they were talking about."

"I heard someone ran out of the presentation," Steve contributes. I sigh.

"Guys, there's something you should know. This summer, I went through my first heat. My stepmother is infertile, and she wanted another baby. She had our neighbor mate with me, and now I have to carry his child," I sniff, tears rolling down my cheeks. Everyone sits in a shocked silence. Clint comes over and wraps his arm around me. I bury my face into his shoulder, hot tears falling from my eyes.

"I'm so sorry," Bruce whispers.

"How could someone do that?!" Steve asks, sounding totally outraged.

Tony, for once, is shocked into silence. Thor and Loki are shaking their heads sadly. Sniffling, I try to wipe the tears from my cheeks, but more tears soon replace them. Our group of friends sits in silence, letting me vent my emotions.

After about 10 minutes, I finally manage to stop crying. I set my jaw with a firm resolve. This will not run my life. I will return to school tomorrow, and my classmates' words will not affect me.

Yeah, right.

Chapter Text

Chapter Eleven

September 10th and 11th

Natasha's P. o. V:

When I finally manage to compose myself enough to disentangle myself from Clint's arms, about a half hour has passed. I glance at my watch and let out a gasp of horror. "Camille is going to kill me!" Clint shoots me a steely look.

"I'd like to see her try," he growls, eyes flashing with anger. Unconsciously, I rub my wrists, remembering the bruises that Camille put there. Luckily, Clint does not notice, but Bruce shoots me a look. I imperceptibly shake my head, warning him not to say anything. Wisely, he keeps his mouth shut. "I'll walk you home," Clint tells me. There is no use in arguing, so I accept the statement and head towards the door, Clint by my side. The rest of our group wishes me well as we walk out the door. We walk in silence for a while.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," Clint responds.

"When you found out, did you really think that I would intentionally get pregnant?" My voice breaks, and tears threaten to fall down my cheeks. Damn these pregnancy hormones! Clint hesitates, and I stop walking. "Please tell me you didn't," I beg, a film of tears obscuring my vision.

"No, I didn't really. I knew that there had to be some explanation, but I was so shocked by the news that I didn't know what to believe." I look him in the eyes, knowing that he is telling me the truth.

"Thank you," I sniffle, continuing to walk. Too soon, we reach my house. "Perhaps you should leave me here," I suggest, fearing Camille's reaction. Clint shakes his head vehemently.

"Not a chance. She's not going to hurt you any more than she already has." With that, we continue walking, finally reaching the front door. I try the handle, surprised to find it open. I would have assumed that Camille would have locked me out. Then again, she wouldn't want to endanger the precious baby, I think bitterly. Turning, I give Clint a kiss goodbye. "Will I see you tomorrow?"

"Yes. I won't let my classmates think that they've bullied me out of coming. I won't be seen as a coward." Clint nods, giving me another kiss.

"Good luck. Call or text me if you need anything."

"I will." Clint turns and walks away, and I step into the house. It is dark downstairs, which means that Camille is either out, or upstairs. I cross my finger and hope that she's "working."

As I ascend the stairs, I am pleased to discover that Camille is not upstairs. I take a quick shower, washing away the dried tears on my cheeks. Tomorrow will be difficult, but I must face it. Clint will back me up. I don't care what the other students think. As long as I still have my friends, I'll be fine.

With these positive thoughts in mind, I turn off the shower and get out. Before I put my pajamas on, I examine my body in the mirror. A slight bump sticks out between my hips, but it is still easily concealed by a sweatshirt. I sigh. In about a month's time, even my most baggy sweatshirt will not be able to conceal my pregnancy.

I head to my room, glad to discover that Camille is still not home. I lock my bedroom door and collapse on my bed, suddenly feeling exhausted. Before I know what hits me, I am asleep.

When I wake up in the morning, I am surprised to find that I am on time. I forgot to set my alarm last night, and I thank all of my lucky stars that I'm not running late. I want to show up to school as if nothing has changed.

After wolfing down a quick breakfast and taking the pills that Camille set out for me, I begin walking to school. Clint catches up to me on the way. "Are you ready for this?" I nod my head, not trusting my voice. Clint grabs my hand, giving me a boost of confidence. I walk into the school yard, past groups of gossiping girls. They shoot me hateful looks, but I ignore them.

"What a slut." Clint's grip tightens on my hand.

"Ignore them," he whispers out of the side of his mouth. I nod as more verbal insults are thrown my way. As much as I would like to say that they didn't affect me, I can't. Each insult stings as much as the next, but I do not let them know. Clint and I stop at our lockers, and then head to gym. I gather my courage and then go face Coulson.

"As I'm sure you've heard from around the school, I am pregnant. I am about 2 months along, and I will continue participating in all activities for as long as I can." Coulson looks stunned, but I turn around and march back towards Clint. Clint is chuckling slightly.

"He's completely shocked. He can't believe that someone who is pregnant is managing to whip the other students' asses," Clint smirks. I allow a small smile to spread over my face. More people start to file into the locker room. Clint and I head out into the gym, wanting to avoid the snide comments from our classmates.

"You know, they probably think that you're the one that knocked me up," I snort, a humorless chuckle rising in my throat.

"I wish I was," Clint mutters, barely loud enough for me to hear. I shoot him a look, and he quickly ducks his head, embarrassed to have been caught. "What I meant to say was that I wish it was me, and not your neighbor. Ugh, that doesn't sound any better," Clint groans. I pull him in close for a hug and a peck on the cheek.

"I know what you meant." Clint visibly relaxes as other students begin filing out into the gym. Coulson follows closely behind them.

"Five laps, everyone." Clint and I begin running, leading the pack of students as usual. We finish long before the others, so we stand and wait for them to finish. Several people throw snide comments our way, but I ignore them.

After everyone finishes, we team up and begin playing badminton again. The team of girls that Clint and I are paired with do not make any comments, but they continuously glare at us. We beat them easily, and they storm away. "At least I'm not a slut," one of the girls calls over her shoulder. Clint grips my arm tightly, but I shake him off.

"At least I didn't just get beaten by someone who's pregnant," I shoot back. Clint gives me an appreciative smile, and we pair up with another team.

The rest of the hour passes incredibly quickly, with Clint and I beating every team that we are matched with. When the end of the hour comes, we head to our lockers and go to our classes.

All of my teachers know about my situation, but they do not make a comment about it. Several of them send disappointed glances my way, but I ignore them. They can believe what they want.

Finally, the final bell rings, dismissing us from class. I still hear rude comments being directed at me in the hall, but I keep my head held high, pretending that the comments don't hurt me. Clint can see through my façade, and he rubs his thumb gently over my hand as we walk out of the building. We walk in silence towards my house, thinking about the events of the day. "Well, it could have been worse." I nod.

"True, but not everyone may know yet." Clint sighs.

"Don't let them get you down. I love you, and we both know the truth. Don't let their comments affect you. If they get a rise out of you, it'll only get worse." I nod, seeing the truth in his words. I can see my house approaching down the street. When we reach it, I give Clint a hug and a kiss, and then head up the driveway. Clint watches to make sure that I get in safely, before continuing to walk to his house.

Camille is in the living room watching TV, so I slip upstairs before she can call me in. I lock myself in my room and collapse on my bed. Today may not have been terrible, but my classmates' words still sting. I try not to let the words get to me, but they do anyways.

What if I really am a no-good slut? What if I secretly wanted that? What if everything they were saying was true?

A single tear slips down my cheek, and I wipe it away angrily.

It's always darkest before dawn, right?

I can't say that I'm so sure.

Chapter Text

Chapter Twelve:

October 20th - 31st

Natasha's P. o. V:

After about a week after my pregnancy was revealed, the gossip around me died down. I still get dirty looks, and the occasional rude comment is thrown my way, but school is tolerable. Camille is overbearing, trying to make sure that everything is going perfectly. I am about four months pregnant now. My belly is started to be visible, even with my most baggy sweatshirt.

Camille made me go to my first ultrasound a couple weeks ago. She did not wish to know the gender, so I was not told. The baby appears to be healthy, and is developing appropriately. Apparently, I have not gained as much weight as I should have, so Camille has been supplementing my meals with different things that are supposed to be good for the baby. Since then, my belly has almost doubled in size.

Clint and I have gotten a lot closer. He asked me out on a date, and I accepted. Surprisingly, Camille allowed me to go. Since then, Clint and I have gone on several more dates. We hold hands in the hallways, and this has helped to ward off some of the mean remarks. Clint is still pretty intimidating, and not many people rush to anger him. Clint and I have gotten closer to Tony, Bruce, Steve, Thor, and Loki as well. We go over to each others' houses pretty much every weekend just to hang out and be together.

Halloween is approaching, and the whole school is in an uproar. In our small town, Halloween is a big deal. Everyone goes all out, trying to outdo the others. Some of the decorations are so realistic that it's hard to tell if they're fake or not. The police were called about some fake bodies on stakes last year. I shudder at the memory. I love Halloween, but sometimes people take it too far. At least this year, I'll be able to go out with some friends. It's always more fun to be scared with friends.

Our school decorates the hallways with paper bats and cottony spider webs. Paper ghosts adorn the windows, and we are doing Halloween related activities in all of our classes. I enjoy them, because Clint and I can partner up and work together. When we are done with the activity, we are allowed to talk quietly amongst ourselves. Clint and I get on the topic of costumes. "What do you want to be this year?" Clint asks me. I consider the question before answering.

"I'm not too sure. I haven't really thought about it. What were you thinking of doing?"

"This is going to be cheesy, but what about a couple's costume of sorts?" I think it over.

"Perhaps. What did you have in mind?" One of the popular girls that always torments me hears us.

"Why doesn't she just go as a whore? Oh, wait, I forgot that she was supposed to dress up." She and her bitchy friends dissolve into laughter, high-fiving each other.

"Don't listen to them," Clint whispers to me, tightening his grip on my hand. I turn towards him, putting my back towards the girls.

"Anyways, what were you thinking of going as?"

"We could go as Little Red Riding Hood and the Hunter," Clint suggests. I mull it over.

"I like it. You could even have your bow and arrows as part of the costume!" I agree happily. Clint pulls me in for a quick kiss.

"Thank Tony. He's always calling you Red, and it triggered the idea." We sit next to each other for the rest of the hour, our legs touching.

The rest of the month passes quickly. I work on pulling together my costume. I find a hooded red cloak at Goodwill, and the rest of the costume can be put together with the clothes I have at home. At last, the day arrives. Clint and I walk home together, agreeing to meet each other later. I go into my house and begin pulling my costume together and preparing to shower. Once again, Camille is not home, but I am not surprised. This has become a habit with her. She's been working later at night to try and build up some extra money for when the baby comes.

Not that I'm complaining. She and I have been butting heads more than usual. I blame it on stress and hormones, but it doesn't make it any easier to handle. I hate her for what she's done to me.

After I take a long shower, I begin preparing for the night. I have a picnic basket for candy, and my costume is laying on my bed. Slowly, I begin putting everything on. My shirt is tight, but the hooded cloak will help to conceal my pregnancy. I don't want to be flaunting my misfortune the entire time that I'm trying to have fun.

Finally, I manage to get my costume on. A quick glance at the clock informs me that it is almost time to meet up with Clint. I head downstairs quietly, trying not to alert Camille of my presence. However, my efforts are for nothing. Camille is not even home yet. I let out a sigh of relief and head out the door, locking it behind me.

Clint is waiting for me in front of my house. I rush out to meet him. He looks dashing in leather armor, with his bow and arrow slung across his back. I can see a hunting knife sticking out of the top of his boot. Laughter bubbles up in my throat when I see what he has draped over his shoulder. "Where the heck did you find a wolf pelt?" I chuckle.

"They had a fake one at the costume store I was at, and I just had to buy it," Clint explains, a smile on his face. I laugh and link arms with him. We walk down the street, heading towards downtown to meet up with our friends. Finally, we see them. Tony and Bruce are dressed up as mad scientists. Loki and Thor are dressed like the Norse Gods that they were named after. Steve decided to go as a soldier, not that it's a surprise. We all begin walking down the street, accompanied by various other kids who are on the hunt for candy.

Our group trick-or-treats for at least three hours before we begin considering quitting. In those three hours, we went through at least four homemade haunted houses, and we saw plenty of lifelike decorations. At one point, there was a house with a bunch of skeletons in a crashed car. The car was programmed to honk every few minutes, and it scared our group as we were walking past. Afterwards, we laughed and joked about it, but there was no denying the brief moment of terror that we felt.

I sigh. It's amazing how much fun it can be to be with friends. Clint and I are walking home alone, the rest of our friends having headed their separate ways. I lean on Clint's arm as we walk home, my ankles swelling up, but I am content. I have almost a full basket of candy, and I really enjoyed myself. I could almost convince myself that I was a normal teenager. Almost.

We take the back way to my house, just to see if there were any new decorations or haunted houses that we missed. Most of the houses are only mildly decorated, but one house has a surprising decoration. There is a car crashed into a tree in someone's yard. "Hey, look at that. They even went so far as to add skid marks!" I exclaim, pulling Clint towards the car. Clint follows behind me eagerly, trying to get a closer look at the elaborate decoration. As we get closer, an uneasy feeling rises in my stomach, but I pass it off as trepidation. However, as we get closer, the feeling gets stronger.

I glance up at the house, wondering if something is going to jump out at us. There are no lights on in the house, and the yard is highly overgrown. The uneasy feeling continues growing, making me feel sick to my stomach.

Finally, as we get closer, I realize why. The car is incredibly familiar. I check the license plate, hoping that my suspicions are wrong. Clint continues walking towards the front of the car. Before I can say anything, he looks in the window.

"Wow, this is really detailed. They even shattered the windshield and deployed the airbags," Clint observes. "Dang, come look at this dummy! It's even more lifelike than the ones on the stakes a couple years ago. I wonder where they got it! Even the blood looks realistic!" My stomach heaves and I retch. Clint hurries over to me.

"Are you okay?" he asks me, concerned. I shake my head, vomit rising in my throat. I heave again, vomit splattering the ground. When I finally stop retching, I turn to Clint and manage to choke out an explanation.

"Clint, that isn't a dummy. It's Camille."

Chapter Text

Chapter Thirteen

October 31st and November 1st

Natasha's P. o. V:

Clint calls 911 while I sit in the grass, stunned. My stomach roils uneasily, and I do my best to keep the remaining contents of my stomach under control. I can hear Clint talking, but I do not comprehend the words. Camille is dead. I am free of her. Then, the crushing truth descends upon me.

Camille is dead. The child is my responsibility now. Clint comes over and wraps his arms around me, phone still pressed to his ear. "The ambulance is coming soon." A hysterical snort rises in my throat, and I struggle not to make a sound.

"What they need an ambulance for? She's obviously dead." A bubble of laughter rises up in my throat, and I roll around on the ground, laughing hysterically. Clint looks at me worriedly, no doubt thinking that I'm crazy. Maybe I am. I couldn't care less at the moment.

The sirens and flashing lights of the ambulance and police cars snap me out of my laughing fit. I hiccup quietly, and Clint hugs me tightly. "Are you okay?" I shake my head.

"I could say that I was, but I think we both know that that's not the truth." Clint nods sadly. A police chief comes up to us. We introduce ourselves to the officer.

"Sir, are you the one that made the call?" Clint nods. "My name is Officer Chris. Can you please explain what happened here?" Clint looks at me, and I shake my head.

"We were walking back to our houses after trick-or-treating, and we came upon the car. At the time, we didn't think anything of it. We though it was just another decoration. Then, Natasha recognized the plates, and we realized who was behind the wheel. I made the call not long after that." The police chief makes notes in his notebook, before turning to me.

"Ma'am, how do you know this woman?"

"She was my stepmother."

"I'm sorry to hear that," he remarks. "Do you have another relative that you can live with?" I shake my head, my heart leaping into my throat.

"Please don't make me live in a foster home!" I beg, tears pricking my eyes. I can't stand the thought of leaving behind Clint and my friends.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but is there anyone that you could live with?" I close my eyes and wrack my mind for someone, anyone. Finally, an idea comes into my mind.

"I could live with my step-mother's boyfriend. He's our next door neighbor." The officer ponders my suggestion.

"I'll have to check with a social worker tomorrow, but for now, you can head home. You've had a stressful night." I nod, thankful for the officer's compassion. He directs Clint and I to a squad car, and we both get inside. The driver asks for our addresses. After they have been given, the officer starts driving, leaving us in silence.

Too soon, we reach Mr. Richard's house. I slowly get out of the car. The officer follows me to the door. I raise a tentative hand to knock, but the door opens before I can. Mr. Richards answers the door, looking bleary-eyed, as if he had just woken up. The officer explains what happened, and Mr. Richards agrees to become my sole caretaker. The officer thanks him and leaves, assuring him that someone would be by tomorrow morning to validate my adoption. With that, he and Clint head back to the car and disappear.

I stare at Mr. Richards, waiting for him to make the first move. He is the first to speak. "I'm sorry to hear about your step-mother." I look at him, but I cannot force myself to talk. "I'll adopt you, and you can come live with me. It's what your stepmother wanted. I hoped to marry her some day." I stare at him in shock, trying to process the information. I never knew that he and my stepmother were so serious about each other. One of the things he said earlier surfaces in my brain, and a cold stab of panic rushes through me.

"Please, don't make me move in with you! I can take care of myself. My house is paid off. I promise I won't do anything to draw suspicion to myself. I'll be good. Please!" I beg. No matter how kind he is being right now, I'd never be able to live with him, not after what he did to me. Mr. Richards considers my suggestion.

"How are you going to pay for the bills?"

"I'll get a job! I'll do something!" I cry desperately. His face softens.

"I'm going to be getting payments to support you. I can give those to you, to help supplement your income," he offers. I throw my arms around him, tears pricking my eyes.

"Thank you," I sniffle. Mr. Richards shuffles uncomfortably.

"It's the least I could do, after what I did to you." I sigh, glancing down at my swollen belly.

"I really appreciate you doing this for me."

"Just remember, you have to be careful. If they find out that you're not living with me, we'll both get in a lot of trouble." I nod.

"I'll be careful. Thank you so much!" I give him one last hug, before heading to the door. He stops me.

"You'll have to stay with me for the night. They'll be coming in the morning to have the papers officiated. You can sleep in the guest bedroom tonight." I nod, and he leads the way to the bedroom. I sit on the edge of the bed, waiting for him to leave. Finally, he does, and I collapse face first onto the bed. Exhaustion washes over me, and within minutes, I am asleep.

When I wake up in the morning, Mr. Richards is already up. I can hear him talking to someone, so I go downstairs to investigate. Mr. Richards signs some papers, and the social worker collects them. "This child is now your legal responsibility. You will receive a monthly check from the government to help pay for her. It is your responsibility to keep her in school. If she does not attend school for an extended period of time, someone will be sent to check up on her. You will have monthly checkups with me. Do you understand?" Mr. Richards nods.

"Thank you for your time." The two shake hands, and the social worker leaves. Mr. Richards notices me standing on the stairs. "Your step-mother left all of her possessions to me. The will will be settled, and a funeral will be arranged. Camille's will specified that her house was going to go to me in her will, and I told the social worker that I do not wish to sell it. I will pay for the upkeep of the house, and you can continue living there. That's the best I can do. I'm sorry." I nod, feeling numb.

"Can I go home, now?" Mr. Richards nods. I exit his house and walk back to mine. The door is locked, just as I left it. I open it and walk inside. The house feels empty, and I struggle not to cry. I will not cry because of Camille. I refuse. She's caused me enough tears. There's nothing I can do. I have to accept my fate and live with it. Crying will do me no good. Even as these thoughts cross my mind, I feel my eyes burning. Tears fall down my cheeks, but I am not sure who or what they are for.

Chapter Text

Chapter Fourteen

November 1st

Natasha's P. o. V:

I go upstairs to my room, trying to avoid the emptiness of the house. I can't believe that Camille is gone. I never liked her, but I regret that our last words were unpleasant. In her own twisted way, she thought that she was doing what was right. Angry tears course down my cheeks, and I punch the wall angrily, not caring that there is now a hole in the drywall. My knuckles are bruised and bleeding, and I relish the physical pain. I throw myself down on my bed, trying to block out everything. I feel my phone buzz next to me.

Wearily, I lift my head, checking to see who the text is from. Of course it's from Clint. He wants to know what happened after he left last night. I quickly fill him in, and he texts me back almost immediately, telling me that he'll be over in about fifteen minutes. I hurriedly straighten my clothes up and run a brush through my hair. My eyes are red and puffy, but I can't force myself to put any makeup on. Clint would see right through it anyways.

Clint rings the doorbell, and I hurry down the stairs. He immediately pulls me into a hug. "Are you holding up?" I nod.

"I had a meltdown before you came, but I'm sure you already knew that." Clint chuckles slightly, pulling me in tightly.

"I wasn't going to say a thing." I smile, and we separate. Clint looks around the house. "It feels so empty." I sigh, tears pricking my eyes. I angrily wipe them away. "How are you going to afford to stay here?"

"Mr. Richards is going to use the welfare checks to keep the house running. I'm going to have to pay for the food, though. I need to find a job, and I need to do it quickly. I'm almost out of food as it is, and Lord knows that I eat a lot now," I trail off, cracking a small smile. Clint gives me a gentle kiss.

"Do you want to go looking today? It's Saturday, and a bunch if businesses downtown are hiring. It'll help keep your mind off of everything," Clint offers. I shrug.

"Okay. I'm going to go shower. I look like hell."

"You look beautiful," Clint grins, giving me a kiss.

"Lying's a sin, you know!" I call over my shoulder.

"Good thing I wasn't lying!" A small smile forms on my lips. Clint never fails to cheer me up. I hurry through my shower and quickly throw on some clothes. Even my baggiest sweatshirt is stretched across my belly. With a sigh, I head downstairs. Clint is waiting for me. "Are we ready?" I nod, and we head out the door. I lock up behind me, and Clint and I walk down the street.

The first shop we find that's hiring sells jewelry. Clint and I walk in to enquire about the job, but as soon as the manager sees me, she turns up her nose and stalks away. "I can't have a trashy little slut working here! What would the customers say?" Anger rushes through my veins, and I quickly turn around and leave. Clint follows close behind me.

"Well, that was a bust! Shall we continue?"

Clint and I continue searching for several hours. None of the stores will hire me because I'm pregnant. As a last resort, Clint and I walk into a small mom-and-pop grocery store that's hiring. I shuffle inside, waiting for rude words to be thrown at me. However, when they don't come, I look up. A kind looking lady is standing behind the desk, watching me. "May I help you?" she asks. I nod.

"I was hoping to apply for a job," I whisper, waiting for the inevitable rejection. She hands me a form.

"Just fill this out, and we'll let you know if we can hire you!" she smiles. I take the form, not daring to believe my luck. I quickly fill the form out and hand it back to her. She looks it over.

"Do you have any parents or guardians that we can contact?" I shake my head, before remembering Mr. Richards.

"Wait, I do. He's my neighbor." I give her the number, and she calls him. After a short conversation, she hangs up and turns to me, smiling.

"It looks like you've got the job! Because you're under the age of 14, I have to make sure that what you do is legal, but other than that, welcome to the family!" I grin at her happiness.

"You aren't going to turn me away because of my condition?" She shakes her head.

"No, I'm not. Your neighbor explained what happened, and you seem like a very polite young lady."

"Thank you so much, Mrs.?" I trail off, unsure what to call her.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. Where are my manners? I'm Linda Smith, but you can call me Linda. You're Natasha, and who is this with you?"

"This is Clint, my boyfriend." Clint dips his head respectfully.

"It's wonderful to meet you, ma'am." Linda smiles.

"Likewise." I decide that I like Linda. She has a genuine smile, and she is not judgmental like most of the people in this town. The door hanging above the door rings, and I look up. An older man has walked through the door. Linda beams at him. "Natasha, this is my husband, Rick. Rick, this is our new employee, Natasha." Rick crosses the space between us in a few step and extends his hand to me.

"Nice to meet you! Who's this?" he asks, gesturing to Clint. Clint introduces himself, and Rick extends his hand to him as well. "It's nice to meet both of you. Is it okay if you work from 3-7 after school? You can bring your homework to work on when we're not busy," Rick offers. I nod happily.

"Thank you so much. You're the only ones that accepted me." Linda pulls me in for a hug.

"It's okay, sweetie. It wasn't your fault." I squeeze her tightly, and then release her. Clint and I thank them again, and then head out. It is getting late, so we grab a bite to eat and head back to my house. Clint gives me a hug and a kiss, and then begins heading home. I close and lock the front door before heading upstairs. I lay down on my bed and fall asleep instantly, glad that someone decided to give me a chance.

Chapter Text

Chapter Fifteen

November 3rd

Natasha's P. o. V:

I hurry through getting ready on Monday morning, not wanting to spend any more time in the empty house than I have to. Clint is waiting for me outside. "How are you doing?" he asks, searching my face. I'm suddenly glad that I cried before I showered.

"I'm doing okay. It's hard. I mean, I hated her, but now that she's gone, I miss her. She rescued me from that horrible orphanage. Even though she forced me to become pregnant for her, she thought she was doing the right thing. It's just hard to believe that I'll never see her again." Tears prick my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. Clint squeezes my hand gently.

"Do you know when the viewing and funeral are going to be?" I nod.

"Mr. Richards told me that the viewing will be tomorrow from 6:00 - 10:00, and the funeral will be at 11:00 in the morning on Wednesday."

"This may be a stupid question, but are you going?" Clint asks tentatively. I nod.

"Even though I didn't like her, it would be disrespectful not to go. I owe her that much for adopting me and taking care of me." We walk in silence for a while. Soon, the school appears in front of us.

"News of the accident will have spread by now. People are probably going to comment on it, but don't let it bother you. They're only trying to get a rise out of you." I know this to be true, but I still dread going to classes.

"As long as I'm with you, I'll be fine." Clint gives me a quick kiss. I hear a gagging noise. Tony walks up to us, followed by the rest of our friends.

"Break it up, you two!" Tony jokes. Clint and I laugh self consciously. Thor walks up to me and envelopes me in a tight hug.

"I'm so sorry to hear about your loss," Thor booms. I whisper a thank you to him, before everyone in the group traps me in a hug. I allow my eyes to fill with moisture, glad that I have such amazing friends.

"I don't deserve you guys," I sniffle. Everyone immediately begins protesting. The bell rings, and we all file inside, getting ready for the day. As usual, Clint and I are the first ones in the gym locker room.

I begin changing, hoping to be fully dressed before anyone else comes in. The tank-top I always wear accents my growing baby bump, making it incredibly obvious that I'm pregnant. However, just as I am reaching for my gym shirt, I hear people come in. They are talking about the accident. "Did you hear about the prostitute that got into a crash on Halloween?"

"Serves the slut right!" I feel sick to my stomach, and for a second, I worry that I might puke. "Speaking of sluts, there's one right there!"

"How does it feel to know your step-mom is dead? Now you're going to have to take care of the kid yourself, you little whore!" Tears prick my eyes, and Clint comes I stand next to me.

"Leave. Her. Alone," Clint growls menacingly. The girls shoot each other terrified looks before heading to their lockers to get their clothes.

"Thanks for that," I sniff, wiping the tears from my eyes. Clint gives me a hug and a kiss.

"You're very welcome. Just ignore them. They're being bitches." We both head out into the gym to do our warm-up laps. While we run, I think about what the girls said. Am I really just a no-good slut? Is the only thing I can do is pop out babies? My face burns with shame, and hot tears threaten to fall. I don't know how much more I can handle until I snap.

Clint and I finish running, and we go get our drinks while the rest of the class is running. When we return to the gym, Coulson is writing the agenda on the board. We will be playing dodgeball today. I hope that Clint and I are on the same team.

When everyone has finished running, Coulson has us gather around him. "Today, we are going to be playing dodgeball. I will pick the teams. No intentional headshots, or you will sit out for the rest of the class, and you'll get an F for the day. Does everyone understand?" We all murmur our agreement, and Coulson begins listing off the teams. To my dismay, Clint and I are on opposite teams.

Everyone splits off into their teams, and Coulson begins laying the balls out. I survey my team, pleased to see that there are only a few of the classmates that tease me. My attention snaps back to the game when Coulson blows the whistle, signaling us to begin.

I race up to the line and grab a ball, throwing it at a person on the other team. The ball hits them in the thigh and then falls to the ground. I grin as Coulson's whistle signals them out.

Someone tries to hurl a ball at me, but I manage to catch it. Coulson's whistle sounds, and the person who threw the ball heads to the sidelines. Soon, Clint and I are the only people remaining from our teams. We both watch each other carefully, trying to see an opening.

Coulson blows his whistle an calls for a tie. Everyone files back onto the court, and a new game begins. Everyone targets me, trying to get me out, but I manage to deflect most of the balls. However, while I am distracted, one of the bitchy girls on my team picks up a ball and hurls it at me. I hear Clint's warning to watch out, and I turn around quickly. Before I have time to react, a ball slams into my face.

I fall backwards, surprised, my eye already swelling shut. Coulson's whistle cuts through the air, and the game stops. "Claire, you're out, and you get an F for today." Claire looks furious.

"Why?! I didn't do anything wrong. She got in the way of my shot!"
Coulson glares at her, and she stalks off of the court. "Totally worth it. The whore should be used to having balls in her face!" My face turns hot with shame. Clint rushes over to me.

"Are you okay?" he asks worriedly. I nod, but I can't prevent tears from falling down my face. Coulson walks over.

"I'm sorry about that. She's going to be suspended for her comments. Do you need to go to the nurse?" I try to shake my head, but Clint speaks up.

"Yes. She needs to get ice for her eye." Coulson excuses me, and I head to the locker room to change, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. Clint is not allowed to come with me. I search through my bag to find my clothes, stopping when I come across something wrapped in tissue.

Carefully, I pull it out. It is a small rectangular package. I unwrap it quickly, then sit back and stare at it. It is one of my cutting razors. I completely forgot about it until now. The scars on my stomach tingle, and the urge to open the skin on my belly overwhelms me. It's been so long.

I think back to what everyone is saying about me. I can only imagine what comments are being made about me now. Hot shame floods through me, and I make up my mind. I only have five minutes until class ends, so I'll have to be quick. Just a few cuts, and I'll feel better. I know it.

Quickly, I gather my clothes and the razor, glad that I wore a black tank-top today. It'll hide the blood. I make my way to the bathroom stall and lock myself in. After changing out of my gym clothes, I raise my shirt and get ready to cut.

My skin tingles, awaiting the first cut. I pick the razor up and lower it towards the swell of my belly. However, before the blade can touch my skin, an invisible force stops me. The blade hovers an inch above my skin, unable to go any farther. Despite my best efforts, the blade won't budge. Suddenly, I remember Camille's orders not to intentionally harm myself or the baby.

An inhuman growl escapes my lips, and frustrated tears fall down my cheeks. Even after she's dead, Camille is still managing to make my life hell. I can hear people beginning to enter the locker room, so I quickly silence myself.

The bell rings a few minutes later, and everyone files out, heading to their next class. I hear footsteps approaching the stall, and someone knocks on the door. "I know you're in there, Tasha. You left your bag out on the bench. Unlock the door." Shakily, I get up and unlock the door, not caring that my face is a teary mess. Clint takes one look at me and pulls me in for a hug. Suddenly, he stiffens.

I forgot that the razor was in plain view. Clint pulls away from me, and fresh tears threaten to fall. Clint puts his hand under my chin and forces me to look up at him. "Where did you cut yourself? Let me see," Clint gently urges. I shake my head.

"I didn't cut myself. I couldn't cut myself," I whisper. Clint looks at me curiously. I quickly fill him in on why. He pulls me in for a tight hug. When he pulls away, he leaves his hand on my stomach, tracing the raised patterns of my previous cuts. I feel a flutter inside me, and Clint looks at me in awe.

"Was that - ?" he trails off, his eyes shining with joy. I nod.

"It was a kick. The baby is always more active when you're around," I admit shyly. Clint looks at me in awe.

"God, I love you!" Clint proclaims, kissing me. I since slightly as his hand brushes against my bruised face. Clint notices and pulls away. "We need to get you to the nurse." I nod, beginning to gather up my things. Clint follows suit, and we exit the locker room together. The bell rings, signaling the beginning of second hour. Clint shrugs. "Mrs. Rogers likes me. She'll give me a pass."

We both walk down the hallway, hand in hand. Suddenly, I turn to Clint. "Clint, I've been thinking... Would you be willing to come to the viewing and funeral with me?" Clint nods, and I can feel a huge load being lifted off of my shoulders.

"Of course. Anything for you," Clint smiles, kissing me. We continue towards the nurse, happiness blossoming in me for what seems like the first time in forever. With Clint's help, I can get through this.

Chapter Text

Chapter 16

November 3rd

Natasha's P. o. V:

Clint and I walk down the hallway to Mrs. Stevens' office. Luckily, there is nobody inside. She hurries me in after a quick glance at my face. "What happened?" she asks, handing me an ice pack.

"Dodgeball in gym." Mrs. Rogers clicks her tongue.

"I keep telling Phil that that unit is going to get someone hurt, and here's the proof. How's your head?"

"I have a raging headache right now."

"Do you want some Tylenol? I have some that's approved for use during pregnancy." I nod, thankful for the nurse's accepting nature. She hands me two pills and a glass of water. Quickly, I knock the pills back.

"Thank you." Clint rubs my hand comfortingly.

"Are you okay?" I nod.

"You should go to class. Math is not an ideal class to miss." Reluctantly, Clint nods.

"Only if you're absolutely sure that you're okay." I nod, and Mrs. Rogers writes Clint a pass. He takes it and exits the room. Once he's out of earshot, Mrs. Rogers turns to me.

"That was a pretty nasty bruise to have been gotten accidentally," she comments, her eyes searching my face. I offer her a sad smile.

"It wasn't accidental. Claire Danes was on my team, and she pegged me in the face," I admit.

"Excuse me for saying this, but that girl is nothing but trouble. Why'd she do it?"

"She thinks I'm a slut, and she loves being mean to others," I reply, tearing up. Mrs. Rogers sits down next to me.

"Oh, honey, ignore her. You're one of the sweetest girls I know. She's just insecure with herself, and she's jealous of you." I sniff.

"It's so hard to ignore them, though," I whisper brokenly. "Everywhere I go, I can hear them talking about me. It's horrible!" Tears stream down my cheeks, and I hide my face, ashamed. Mrs. Rogers puts her finger under my chin and makes me look her in the eye.

"Nothing that they say is true, I promise." She pulls me into a hug, letting me cry into her shoulder. I sob harder, my body shaking. Mrs. Rogers holds me close, rocking me back and forth.

"I'm so scared," I whisper into her shoulder, after I've managed to stop sobbing. Fresh tears fall down my face. "The only way I was getting through this was knowing that after the child was born, it wouldn't be my responsibility. Now, Camille's gone, and I don't know what I'm going to do. What if I don't even make it through the birth?" Panic rises in my system, making my head throb harder.

"Shhh, it's okay. Nothing's going to happen. You'll be okay, I promise Mrs. Rogers says over and over again. At last, I manage to get myself under control.

"I'm sorry about this." Mrs. Rogers shakes her head.

"Don't be. I'm glad you're opening up to me. Steve told me a little about your past. I'm glad that you and Clint managed to find each other."

"Can I ask you something?" Mrs. Rogers nods.

"Is it possible for an order given by an Alpha to an Omega to still stand, even if the Alpha that gave it is dead?" Mrs. Rogers nods slowly after thinking about it.

"I'm not quite sure. Why do you ask?" I hesitate, not wanting to reveal how truly messed up that I am. Mrs. Rogers notices my discomfort. "If you don't want to tell me, that's perfectly fine," she reassures me. I take a deep breath.

"No, it's okay. In the past, I've struggled with self harm. After the event in gym today, I found an old razor that I used in my bag. I tried to harm myself, but it was as if there was an invisible barrier. Before she died, Camille ordered me to never intentionally harm myself or the baby." My body shakes, embarrassment and shame coloring my cheeks.

"It would appear that Camille's order still holds true. I'm glad you couldn't hurt yourself, but I'm sorry that Camille still has some control over your life."

"When do I have to go back to class?" I ask, changing the subject.

"Well, I'm monitoring you for a concussion, so you can stay here for a few hours. Is that okay?" I nod.

"Thank you."

"No problem." I lay my head back against the pillow on the cot, closing my eyes. I have no intention of falling asleep, but against my will, I drift off.

Mrs. Rogers wakes me up an hour later. "Sorry, but I'm required to wake you up. It's part of procedure." I nod and mumble an assent, before falling back to sleep.

My dreams are troubled, filled with my deepest fears. My last dream ends with me going into labor and dying during childbirth. I wake up to Mrs. Rogers shaking me. "Are you okay? You kept mumbling, 'It hurts, it hurts,' over and over again."

"Just a nightmare," I explain, trying to convince myself. Mrs. Rogers looks concerned, but lets the matter drop. "What hour is it?"

"It's almost the end of sixth hour. I let you sleep a bit longer that last time, since you were talking in your sleep. You really needed the sleep."

"Am I free to go to class? I could use the study hall for the classes that I missed today." Mrs. Rogers nods, already writing me a pass.

"If you ever want to talk, about anything at all, my door is always open." I allow myself a small smile.

"Thank you so much, for everything." Mrs. Rogers returns my smile.

"It was my pleasure." I grab my bag and walk down the hall to my locker, going to retrieve the things I need to make up the work in my classes. Clint texted me earlier and told me that he would grab all of my work for me. I'm thankful, since it means that I don't have to face my classmates.

Everyone looks up when I enter. A few shoot me sympathetic looks, while many sneer at me. My eye is still mostly swollen shut, but the ice has helped. I take my seat next to Clint and begin working on my homework. To my relief, it was a light day, and I do not have much to do. I finish it before the hour is over.

"Are you okay?" Clint whispers. I nod, trying not to attract attention to myself. The last thing I need is for the teacher to snap at me and assign more work. Thankfully, the bell rings, releasing us. Immediately, my friends surround me, asking if I'm okay. I wave them off, focusing on Steve.

"Tell your mom that I really appreciate what she did for me." Steve nods, not prying into my business. I'm thankful for the fact. Instead of going back to the empty house, I head straight to work. Clint walks with me. Lisa welcomes me inside, giving me an apron. She shows me how to work the register, then leaves me to my own business. Clint hangs around, keeping me company. Business is slow, and I'm glad of the distraction.

My shift comes to an end, and Clint walks me home. I try not to let the loneliness show, but Clint hugs me all the same. "Keep your head up. Things will get better, I promise." I give him a slight kiss, before heading inside. I made it through the day. The funeral is tomorrow, and I'm already dreading it.

Chapter Text

Chapter 17

November 4th

Natasha's P. o. V:

I wake up early in the morning, a feeling of dread settling into my stomach. Today is the viewing, and I really am not looking forward to it. My phone buzzes next to me. I quickly unlock it, seeing that it's a text from Clint. "You okay?" Immediately, tears well up in my eyes. I text him back a single word.

"No."

"I'll be there in ten minutes." I lock my phone and begin getting ready. None of my old dresses fit, and I am forced to wear a sweater that squeezes against my baby bump. Unfortunately, I do not have the time or the money to go get a new outfit. I settle on a skirt with an elastic waistband and some flats. Just as I am finishing getting dressed, I hear a knock on the door.

"Come in!" I call, trying hard not to let my voice break. I hear the door open and then gently close. Clint's footsteps approach my room. He knocks on the partially closed door.

"Is it okay if I come in?" he asks.

"Yeah," I whisper, unable to manage anything else. Clint enters, shutting the door behind him. He sits down next to me on the bed.

"How are you holding up?" he asks, voice soft. I shake my head.

"I don't even know what I'm feeling. These pregnancy hormones are throwing everything out of whack, and all I've wanted to do today is cry." Clint rubs my back soothingly. I lay my head on his shoulder.

"I can only imagine what you're going through." I sit like this for a while, just letting Clint's scent surround me. It soothes me, and I manage to relax a little. Suddenly, I straighten up, having felt the baby kick. I take Clint's hand and place it over my stomach. Sure enough, the baby kicks again, not more than a few seconds later. Clint looks at me, awe in his eyes.

"She likes you, you know."

"It's a girl?" I shrug.

"Camille didn't want to know, so I wasn't told, but I feel like it's a girl." Clint smiles sadly.

"I hope that she's just as beautiful as you are." My eyes tear up again, and I bury my face into Clint's side.

"What did I ever do to deserve you?" Clint chuckles.

"Funny, I was thinking the same thing."

"Clint, you're wonderful. I know that you've had a hard life, but you always care more about others than yourself. Oh, Clint!" I sob, tears finally breaking free and streaming down my face. He rubs my back and soothes me, letting me work it out of my system. "I've been so selfish. I have no clue how your life has been at home, because I've been so focused on myself. I'm sorry. I'm a horrible girlfriend." A fresh round of tears falls.

"There's been nothing to tell. My step-father has been avoiding me lately. I think he's been buying his own drugs, or he's run out of money. Frankly, I don't care, as long as he leaves me alone. As soon as I turn 17, I'm out of that house."

"You could come live with me," I offer, suddenly hopeful. Clint considers it. "The house is paid off. All we'd have to pay for is utilities and food."

"Natasha, if you would be willing to put up with me, I'd love to." I frantically press my lips to his, not wanting to release him from my grip. He kisses me back fervently, his hands roaming over my back. Unfortunately, the doorbell rings, forcing us to break apart.

"Were you expecting someone?" I shake my head and go to answer the door. Clint follows behind me. To my surprise, Mr. Richards is standing on the other side.

"I just came to see how you were - ," Suddenly, he cuts off, a growl rumbling deep in his throat. His eyes flash with anger. Confusion washes over me, and I hear Clint growling as well. "What are you doing here?" Mr. Richards asks, looking as if he wants to take a shot at Clint.

"I could ask you the same thing!" Clint snarls, not bothering to hide the hostility in his tone.

"I happen to be her baby's father." Clint's growl deepens.

"Just because you raped her doesn't give you a right to her. She is a person, not a piece of property."

"You're just a pup! You know nothing about these things. Now, get out of here before things get ugly."

"No." Mr. Richards grits his teeth together, obviously furious.

"Leave now, or I'll have the cops arrest you for trespassing." Clint growls, but leaves. Mr. Richards smirks, turning back to me. "I don't want you hanging around with him. That is my child, and I won't have you hanging around with riff-raff such as him." I slam the door in his face, anger coursing through my veins. How dare he treat me like an object to be possessed! I storm up to my room, going to get my cell phone. To my surprise, Clint is sitting on my bed.

"How did you get in?" I ask, disbelief in my voice.

"The tree next to the house basically reaches your window, and your window doesn't have a lock on it. The window sill is pretty wide, and I was able to go from the tree to the window."

"You're not going to listen to him, are you?" Clint doesn't answer.

"I don't doubt that he would call the cops on me. He's being a possessive asshole just because he managed to get you pregnant. I'm sorry that you had to see that."

I sigh. "I don't want to talk about it. We still have several hours before we have to go to the viewing. What do you want to do?"

"That's completely up to you. Your house, your rules." My eyes drift over to my bookcase, where there are a stack of DVDs. However, these are just any old DVDs. I walk over to the shelf and retrieve the discs, holding them up for Clint's inspection.

"Movies?" I nod.

"Not just any movies. These are the home movies of me when I was younger." Clint looks at me, asking permission.

"Are you sure you're comfortable with this?" I nod, putting the DVD into the player. We both settle in on my bed, waiting for the movie to start. For the moment, I'm able to push all thoughts of Camille and the viewing out of my mind.

Chapter Text

Chapter Eighteen

November 4th

Natasha's P. o. V:

Clint settles in next to me on the bed, and I push play on the DVD player. A shaky picture fills the screen. Finally, it stabilizes, revealing a very young me sitting behind a birthday cake, listening to someone sing me Happy Birthday. "Happy fourth birthday, sweetheart!" a happy voice calls as I blow out my candles.

With a start, I realize that it's Camille. Tears well up in my eyes. What happened to make her into the person that I was so familiar with? Luckily, Clint is too absorbed in the home movie to notice my internal struggle. "You were so cute, Tasha. Still are," he winks, leaning over to kiss my nose. I blush, then focus back on the screen as a new video starts playing.

This time, I am seated in front of a Christmas tree, with a pile of presents surrounding me. Little Me starts tearing into the presents, squealing with delight as each new present is revealed.

The next video shows Camille teaching me how to ride a bike. I'm not sure who's filming us. Camille holds onto the back of my seat as I pedal, finally letting go. I ride a little ways before realizing that she's no longer assisting me. "I'm doing it, I'm doing it!" Little Me exclaims delightedly. Camille chuckles.

"Yeah, you are. I told you that you could!" Shortly after she finishes talking, the bike hits a rough patch and begins to wobble. I manage to stay upright for a few seconds before toppling over. Camille rushes over to help me, and the video stops.

The next video shows me in the kitchen, wearing nothing but my underwear. I'm dipping hard-boiled eggs into dye-colored water, swirling the egg around. Camille praises every egg that I hold up proudly. More tears prick my eyes. I don't remember Camille doing any of this for me. All I remember is what she forced me to do this summer. I sniffle quietly, and Clint rubs my back soothingly. "I know it's hard. I can't believe that Camille was once a good mom." I nod.

"I didn't realize how much she actually did for me until she was gone. I wish we hadn't parted on such bad terms. She gave me a home when I didn't have one. She cared for me. She taught me how to do so many things. I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm sorry that she's gone." Tears trickle down my cheeks, and I curse my pregnancy hormones. It doesn't take much to set me off, now.

In the background, a video of me carving a pumpkin for Halloween is playing. Little Me refuses to show the camera what I'm carving until it is finished. At last, I turn the pumpkin around, allowing Camille to see what I carved. Instead of a traditional face, I had carved a heart into the pumpkin. I snuggle against Clint's chest, tears falling freely. I can feel Clint reaching for the remote, and I hear the TV shut off. "Maybe that wasn't such a good idea," Clint murmurs. I shake my head.

"I'm glad we watched them." I glance over at the clock. "Crap, we have to get going. The viewing is in an hour!" Clint helps me straighten my hair and clothes, before leaving through my window.

"I'll catch up with you before you get to the funeral home. I don't want that asshole to see us together. The last thing I need is for him to force you to move in with him." I watch as he goes, making sure that he doesn't fall and hurt himself. Thankfully, he makes it to the ground safely, before beginning to walk. With a sigh, I close my window and exit my room, heading towards the front door. I leave the house, locking the door behind me. Clint is nowhere in sight.

However, he rejoins me shortly after we're out of the line of sight of Mr. Richards. "How are you doing?" I shrug, fresh tears forming.

"I don't even know how I feel right now. Everything is so jumbled up and confused. All I want to do is cry, and my pregnancy hormones aren't helping." Clint takes my hand and begins rubbing his thumb over the back gently.

"It'll all work out, I promise. No matter what happens, you'll still have me."

"You promise?"

"Cross my heart." I give Clint a quick kiss. The funeral home looms large on the horizon. I grit my teeth and continue walking towards it.

"How are you going to stay out of sight of Mr. Richards? He's going to be there."

"I'll figure something out. I won't leave you here alone, okay? I love you."

"I love you, too. Thank you for coming with me."

"For you, anything." Too soon, we reach the building. Already, there are cars gathered outside. I see Mr. Richards' car and grit my teeth. I swear to God, if he tries anything, I'll make him regret it. Clint can feel me stiffen up at his side. "Relax. It'll be okay. If it's too much, we can leave, okay?" I nod, and we enter the building. We are ushered inside and urged to sign the guest book. I sign my name, but Clint does not. We are then directed to the viewing room.

People milk throughout the room, talking quietly amongst each other. Not a single face is familiar to me. I can see the coffin resting at the far end of the room. Mr. Richards is nowhere to be seen, so I motion for Clint to follow me.

We make our way up to the coffin slowly. Dread builds in my gut. The lid is closed, and I am glad. I'm not sure that I could handle seeing Camille's face. I kneel down in front of the coffin, silent tears streaming down my cheeks.

"I'm so sorry for everything, Camille. I didn't appreciate everything that you did for me until it was too late. What you did wasn't right, but I understand why you did it. You just wanted another kid so badly, and I fought you every step of the way. I'm so sorry," I sob. People are looking at me, but I can't find it in myself to care. Clint hugs my shoulders gently.

"You okay?" I nod, straightening up. People whisper behind their hands as I walk past, shooting me glares. Unable to take it, I break away from Clint, rushing to the bathroom. He lets me go, following behind me slowly. I enter the bathroom and lock the door behind me, sinking to the floor, sobbing.

I don't know how long I am like that, but I soon become aware of Clint's voice outside the door. "Are you okay?" There's no judgement in his voice, something that I'm immensely grateful for. Slowly, I drag myself to my feet and unlock the door.

"You can come in if you want to," I offer. The door opens a crack, and Clint looks in. I know how I must look: face and eyes puffy and red, cheeks stiff with dried tears. Clint just pulls me close and holds me, massaging my back gently.

"Do you want to leave?" I nod against his shoulder. He opens the door and leads me out, ignoring everyone looking at us. Thankfully, we soon reach the front door and make our exit. We walk in silence for a while, neither of us feeling the urge to speak. I sniffle every once in a while, but thankfully, the tears do not make an appearance.

As we turn onto my street, I begin scanning for Mr. Richards' car. By some miracle, it is not in his driveway. Clint and I pick up the pace, unable to wait for the safety of the house. Within a few minutes, we are both inside, and the door is locked. We both head back up to my bedroom. I collapse on the bed, mentally and emotionally exhausted.

Somehow, I find the strength to crawl under the covers. Clint hesitates, silently asking my permission to slide in next to me. I give him a slight nod, and he lays down next to me. I shift to my side, trying to get comfortable with my ever-expanding belly. Clint spoons me, his hand resting on my belly. I curl up against him, and before I know it, my eyes have drifted closed, and I fall asleep.

Chapter Text

Chapter 19

November 5th

Natasha's P. o. V:

When I wake up, I momentarily panic, not remembering who is laying beside me. However, Clint's soothing smell washes over me a second later, and I relax. As carefully as I can, to avoid disturbing Clint, I reach over and grab my phone.

I have several missed calls and text messages, all from the same number. My blood runs cold as I realize who it is. My body stiffens, and Clint stirs next to me. I force my breathing to return to normal before beginning opening the texts.

"Where are you?"

"I know you were here."

"I saw you and that bastard that I warned to stay away."

"ANSWER ME."

"If you're with him right now, I'll call the cops."

"I'm getting angry. You won't like me when I'm angry."

The texts following the last one are gibberish, as if his fingers were unable to type properly. With bated breath, I begin listening to his messages.

"You thought you could sneak past me, didn't you? Thought I wouldn't notice. Well, I did."

"Answer your phone!"

"That's it. If I see that pup one more time, he's dead. If I so much as scent him on you, or in the house, I will hunt his ass down and kill him."

"Don't even bother showing up to the funeral tomorrow. Do it, and I'll call the cops and have you reported."

The last message is just filled with inhuman snarls and growls. A shiver runs up my spine, and I desperately try to choke back the sobs that are rising in my throat. Clint must feel me shaking, because he wraps his arms tighter around me. "Hey, what's the matter? Are you okay?" I shake my head, unable to speak. Clint's eyes fall on my phone, and he begins reading the texts and listening to the messages. When he's finished, he sits in silence for a few seconds, his eyes flashing red.

"Clint?" I ask tentatively.

"I'll kill the bastard," Clint whispers, shaking with rage.

"No, Clint, drop it! He's just angry. The cops would be on his side. Please, don't do anything stupid. I can't live without you," I admit. Clint calms slightly, but I can still see the anger in his eyes. Suddenly, I hear someone knocking on the door. The sound is angry, and I know without a doubt who's behind it.

"Open this fucking door! I can smell the pup! I know he's with you! Open up, before I call the cops!" His voice is that of the Alpha that he is, and I cannot help but to obey. Clint tries to stop me, but I manage to slip out of his grasp. My hands unlock the door and open it before I can register what I'm doing. Mr. Richards is standing on the other side, his eyes glowing red. A shudder runs through me. It's very rare in this day and age for people to allow their wolf forms to show.

Clint appears behind me, teeth bared. His incisors have grown, forcing his face into a snarl. He looks more animal than human. "I challenge you to a fight to the death for the right to take Natasha as a mate. Should you forfeit this fight, I may kill you on the spot without any resistance. Do you accept this challenge?" Clint manages to growl, speaking around his newly lengthened teeth.

"I accept," Mr. Richards snarls, his teeth lengthening and sharpening as well. "I look forward to tearing you limb from limb, pup." In the blink of an eye, it is not Clint that is standing next to me; it is a large, solid black wolf with angry blue eyes. Mr. Richards morphs as well, becoming an even larger brown wolf. Fear coils in the pit of my belly, and I worry that I may get sick.

The two wolves circle each other slowly, occasionally making false lunges towards each other. My breath catches in my throat each time. I find myself praying to any God there is that Clint will be the winner of this fight.

Mr. Richards darts forward, trying to grab a hold of Clint's leg. However, his size works to his disadvantage, and Clint is able to jump away. Before Mr. Richards has time to recover, Clint whirls around and clamps down on his back leg, snapping the bone between his teeth. Mr. Richards howls in pain and begins circling again, forced to hold his injured leg off of the ground.

Clint tries to rush Mr. Richards, but the larger wolf is ready this time. Mr. Richards whirls around and manages to rake his teeth down Clint's side. A pained whimper comes from Clint as he retreats and begins circling again. It takes all of my willpower not to rush forward and go to Clint. Blood streams down his side, darkening the fur.

Mr. Richards lunges, trying to grab on to Clint's neck. Clint twists away at the last second, only allowing Mr. Richards' teeth to scrape his shoulder. Immediately, Clint darts in and grabs a hold of Mr. Richards' other hind leg. Mr. Richards tries to twist away. A snapping sound breaks the air, and I cringe, dropping to my knees.

Mr. Richards is effectively immobilized, but he continues to snap at Clint whenever he gets close. Unexpectedly, he morphs back into his human form. "Go ahead, pup. Finish me off, if you're man enough to do so!" Clint snarls, before morphing back into his human form as well.

"I will not kill you. I won't sink to your level." Mr. Richards laughs, a horrible, grating sound.

"If you don't kill me, I won't give up. I'll keep fighting for her. She's mine!" Mr. Richards morphs back into his wolf form, waiting. Clint morphs as well, albeit unwillingly. Slowly, he edges forward. Mr. Richards lowers his head, waiting for the inevitable. When Clint is within striking range, Mr. Richards lunges up, clamping on to Clint's throat.

"NO!" I scream, rushing towards the fight. I fall to all fours, my wolf forcing its way outwards. As Mr. Richards sees me approach, he releases Clint's neck. I stop, bewildered by his action. He morphs back to his human form again.

"I can't keep living. She was going to be my mate. We were going to start a family!" Anguished tears roll down his face. "She's the only thing I had left of her!" he yells, pointing a finger at me. "And she wants nothing to do with me. Kill me! Kill me!" He dissolves into sobs. I sit back on my haunches, my heart breaking. I can't imagine what it would be like to have Clint taken away from me.

Clint looks at me. I give a small nod, before turning away and heading back into the house. I hum to myself, but it isn't enough to block out the horrible crack Mr. Richards' neck makes as it snaps. At least it was a quick death, I console myself, trying not to puke. "Are you okay?" Clint asks, coming up behind me. I realize with a start that I've morphed back to my human form. I shake my head.

"Everyone around me is dying, and it's all my fault," I sob, leaning against his shoulders. "I'm banned from the funeral, there's a dead body on the lawn, I'm pregnant, and everyone hates me."

"I don't hate you," Clint murmurs against my hair.

"Prove it! Make love to me, Clint," I command, clinging to Clint. He pushes me back, gently.

"Nat, no - ," he begins. I shove away from him, tears spilling down my cheeks.

"You don't want me either! Nobody wants me!" I know in the back of my mind that I'm not being rational, but I can't stop the words from falling out of my mouth. Clint pulls me close, against my protests.

"Shh, honey, I want you very much. I love you with all of my heart, and I'd do anything for you, but you're not thinking straight right now. I don't want to do something now that we'll regret later, that's all." I curl up against Clint's chest, allowing him to hold me. We stay like this for at least an hour, drawing comfort from each others' presence.

Chapter Text

Chapter 20

November 5th

Natasha's P. o. V:

Clint and I continue holding each other for some time before we separate. I wipe my eyes, hiccuping. "What are we going to do? We can't leave his body out in the middle of the front yard." Suddenly, there is a knock on the front door. I freeze, shooting a panicked look at Clint. "What if it's the cops?"

"Only one way to find out," Clint says grimly. We both stand up and start heading to the door. A look through the peephole shows me that it's my neighbor from across the street. With shaking hands, I unlock the door and open it.

"Did you know that there's a body on your lawn?" I laugh slightly.

"Yes, Mrs. Mullins." The old lady looks nervous.

"What happened?"

"He's been harassing me for a couple days now. I don't know if you know about this, but he's the father of this child," I say, gesturing to my stomach. "Clint challenged him for the right to be my mate, and Mr. Richards accepted. He knew that he was facing death. In fact, towards the end, he was begging for Clint to kill him." Mrs. Mullins lets out a shaky breath.

"My granddaughter recorded the whole encounter on her cell phone, but there isn't any audio. I've been noticing Mr. Richards watching you through his window. It struck me as creepy at the time, but I didn't say anything about it. It was none of my business." She pauses for a second. "I trust you. You seem like a nice young lady. If you need someone to testify for you, I'd be willing to do so." My eyes fill with tears.

"Thank you so much. You have no idea how much it means to me."

"Well, it seems like you've been through a lot. I'm sorry that I've never stepped forward before, but like I said, I didn't believe that it was my place." She glances over my shoulder. "Pardon my intrusion, but are you alone? I heard that your step-mother was in an accident, but I didn't know if the rumors were true." I nod slowly.

"The funeral is today, actually. Mr. Richards banned me from going." My eyes fill with tears again. "Everyone around me is dying." Clint rubs my back gently.

"Well, if it makes you feel better, if you ever need someone to talk to, you can always come over. My granddaughter usually comes over on the weekends. You may know her. I think she goes to your school."

"What's her name?"

"Betty Ross." I nod my head. I've seen her in my classes before. She's a quiet, shy girl, who usually sits by herself. She seems nice, but I've never really met her before.

"I think she's in a few of my classes."

"Well, she knows who you are, and she knows what you've been going through. She's been wanting to say hi and get to know you, but she's very shy."

"Tell her I really appreciate the thought. It's okay if she doesn't want to be seen with me. I'm not exactly popular at the school right now," I chuckle bitterly.

"Popularity is the least of her worries. I'm sure she'd love to meet you."

"Thank you so much for coming over, and thank you for your support. Tell your granddaughter that, if she's willing, I'd love to meet her."

"It's no problem, really. Like I said, if you ever need anyone to talk to, I'm just across the street, and I'm usually home." I thank Mrs. Mullins again, and we say our goodbyes. After she has returned to her house, Clint turns to me.

"Do you suppose that we should bury the body?" he asks. I nod. Together, we walk over to the body, lifting it. We carry it to Mr. Richards' backyard, where he has a garden. The ground is frozen, which will make it hard to bury the body. Luckily, Mr. Richards' barn is unlocked, and he has a tiller inside.

Clint masterfully tills up the ground, making it easier to dig the hole. Clint refuses to let me help, so I sit and watch, making sure that there is nobody who can see what we are doing. Finally, the hole is deep enough. Together, we lay the body in the hole. "Do you want to say anything?" I nod.

"You were an asshole, but grief can drive people to do strange things. I think that you honestly believed that what you were doing was right, and I'm sorry that it had to end the way it did." Clint begins to pile the dirt on top of Mr. Richards' body. Soon, it disappears from sight.

After about twenty minutes, the hole is completely filled. Clint finds a stone and places it in the middle of the freshly dug grave. A lump rises in my throat, but no tears fall. I turn away from the grave and begin walking back towards my house. Clint follows behind me. "You okay?" he asks, coming up behind me. I nod.

"In a way, I'm happy that he's gone. I know that I shouldn't be, but I am. Does that make me a bad person?"

"No, it doesn't. He made you go through so much. You have every right to be relieved that he's gone." A moment passes. "Now that he's gone, do you want to go to the funeral? We still have time to make it, if you want to go." I shake my head.

"I don't think I could handle it. So much has already happened today. I kinda just want to sit down and do nothing. I need some time to collect my thoughts." Clint nods understandingly.

"Do you want me to go home?" I shake my head.

"Will you stay with me?" Clint nods.

"Always."

Chapter Text

Chapter 21

November 5th

Natasha's P. o. V:

"Hey, Nat?" Clint asks, softly.

"Yeah?"

"I know that you said you wanted to be alone, but would it be okay if I invited Tony and the rest of the gang over? Some distraction might do you some good." I consider his offer for a few seconds.

"Yeah, go ahead. I can't just stay here in the dark and wallow." Clint slides his phone out of his pocket, being careful not to jostle me. His thumbs tap out a quick text, and he puts his phone down. It buzzes not a minute later. Clint quickly opens the text and scans its contents.

"They'll be over sometime within the next half hour." I nod.

"Thank you Clint, for everything. If it wasn't for you, I would have gone insane by now."

"Really, Nat, it's not a problem. I'm your boyfriend. This is what I'm supposed to do."

"I'm pretty sure every other person I've met wouldn't count "comforting a pregnant teenager because the father of her child is a crazy psycho rapist who also happens to be dead" as part of their boyfriendly duties." Clint chuckles quietly.

"Hey, I'm here to do it for you, and that's all that matters." We sit in silence for a little while.

"Clint?"

"Yeah, Nat?"

"You don't have to if you don't want to, but would you come to my next baby appointment, please?" I cross my fingers, holding my breath, waiting for his answer. Clint considers me carefully.

"If that's what you want, then of course. Anything for you, Nat."

"I think the next appointment is when I can find out the gender, and I'd like you to be there for that."

"I've always pictured myself with a little girl," Clint smiles, then blushes. "I meant, in the future, and - ." I cut him off.

"Clint, if you would be willing to help me take care of this baby, it would mean the world to me." Clint nods, eyes glistening slightly.

"Nat, it would be my pleasure." He leans in for a kiss. Just as our lips meet, the doorbell rings. Clint groans.

"Tony has the worst timing, as usual." I clamber out of Clint's lap and straighten my clothes.

"Am I presentable?"

"Even in a potato sack, you would be presentable." I laugh self consciously, and we head downstairs to let our friends in.

"It's about time! What were you guys doing, making out?" I glare at Tony, and his smile falters. "I was just kidding. Anyways, would one of you care to explain why there's blood on the front lawn? Did you murder someone?" I shoot a guilty glance at Clint. "Oh my God, you did! Who was it? I can believe I'm friends with two stone cold murderers!" I grab Tony by the arm and pull him inside. Bruce, Thor, Loki, and Steve follow behind.

When everyone is inside, I close the door and lock it. "I'm only going to explain this once, so listen up. My neighbor, the father of my child and my rapist, tried to ban me from seeing Clint ever again."

"So you killed him? That's a bit harsh, don't you think?" I smack the back of Tony's head.

"No, and if you'd listen without interrupting, you'd know what happened!" Tony mimes zipping his lips, and I continue. "Anyways, we didn't listen, and Clint came with me to the viewing. Mr. Richards saw, and he got upset. He came over today and tried to enter the house uninvited. Clint got angry, and he challenged Mr. Richards to a fight to the death to the right to be my mate. Mr. Richards accepted, and they both wolfed out and fought. Clint won. We buried the body, and then Clint texted you."

"So, you guys are mates now?" Bruce asks quietly. I blush.

"Not in that sense. Maybe in the future, but not at the moment. Anyways, we invited you guys over so I wouldn't have time to overthink everything."

"Well, what do you guys want to do?" Clint asks. "Nat mentioned to me about how she's going to find out the gender of her baby at her next appointment." Tony grins.

"I think that that gives us an excellent opportunity for some betting! Ten bucks says that it's a boy!"

"I'll match that," Steve contributes.

"I, for one, think that it'll be a girl," Bruce shares.

"I'm with you on that one, Bruce," Clint agrees.

"I believe that Natasha is going to bear a son!" Thor booms.

"I must disagree, with you, brother. I believe that Natasha will have a girl." Tony turns to me.

"What do you think it'll be?" I consider his words carefully before answering.

"I'm with Clint, Loki and Bruce. I keep saying "she" or "her" in my head."

"Well, we could always try one of those ancient Chinese predictors, like the ring on a string."

"Why not?" I shrug. Steve pulls a chain with a ring on it from around his neck.

"It was my mom's. She left it to me in her will." We all nod, and Clint leads me over to the couch.

"Lay down. We need to dangle the ring over your stomach."

"Should I even ask why you know this stuff, Tony?" He shrugs defensively.

"What?! I was bored, okay?" We all laugh, and I lay down on the couch. Tony dangles the ring over my stomach, stopping its spinning. "Ready?" I nod. He releases the rings, and we all stare at it. Slowly, it begins spinning in a circle.

"What's that mean?"

"Going in a circle means that you're expecting a girl. Back and forth like a pendulum means that you're having a boy."

"So, according to the ring, you, Clint, Loki, and Bruce are correct." Steve concludes.

"I refuse to believe it!" Tony shouts. "Natasha, get up. Clint, lay down. We'll use you as a control."

"Sore loser," Clint coughs, laying down. Tony dangles the ring over his belly. After a few seconds, the ring stays stubbornly still.

"There ya go," I chuckle.

"It's just some stupid superstition. I'll pay up only when I get an expert opinion."

"Whatever, Tony." We all dissolve into laughter until our stomachs hurt and tears are streaming down our faces. I forgot how good it felt to laugh like this. Maybe, with the help of my friends, I can get through this.

Chapter Text

Chapter 22

November 5

Natasha's P. o. V:

We all sit and watch TV for a while, munching on some of the snacks that are still left in the house. Tony speaks up for the first time since "losing" the bet. "I've never had a chance to do this before, since it's usually only me and my dad, but could we run together?" I shoot Clint a puzzled look. "I-I mean, if it's a stupid idea, we don't have to." Tony's usual confidence is gone, and he seems to have curled in on himself.

"What do you mean, 'run together'?" I ask carefully, not wanting to upset Tony.

"Like, as a pack."

"In our wolf forms?" Bruce asks quietly. Tony nods.

"Never mind, forget that I even mentioned it."

"No, no, I think it's a great idea. I was just surprised, is all. It's not common for people to allow their wolf forms out, especially in public."

"We can go back to my place. I have a lot of open fields. Nobody would see us." I nod.

"That's a wonderful idea, Tony! We shall have a splendid party afterwards to celebrate the joining of our pack." Tony immediately perks up at the idea of a party.

"Yeah! I'll have JARVIS call your parents, and you can stay over. Bruce, if you want to bring Darcy, and Thor, if you want to bring along Jane, please feel free to do so." Bruce blushes furiously and starts sputtering in protest.

"We - we aren't -."

"Save it, big guy. It's okay. Darcy's cool." Bruce continues blushing, but leaves the room to call her. Thor follows him, and I hear them conversing with their significant others. Tony leaves the room, going to call his house and let them know that we're coming over. Loki and Steve leave the room, leaving Clint and I alone.

I snuggle up next to Clint, and his hand comes to rest on my stomach. For once, I don't feel revulsion at the sight of the bump sticking out from between my hips.

"Ya know, that was the first time I've let my wolf out voluntarily," I admit. "I accidentally phased at the orphanage when I was younger, and all of the kids teased me about my coloring."

"Honey, from the glimpse I saw, your coloring is absolutely beautiful. You have nothing to be ashamed of."

"You have to say that," I pout. Clint chuckles.

"That's not true, and you know it." Just then, Tony reenters the room.

"Come on, lovebirds. We have a pack to form!" Clint and I grin at each other before scrambling to our feet. I run upstairs and pack an overnight bag, before rejoining our group.

"Jane and Darcy will meet us at Tony's house. Are you ready to go?" I nod, and we all head out the door. I lock it behind us, and we begin heading down the street.

Before long, we reach Tony's house. Jane and Darcy are waiting at the gate. "What's up with the security, Iron Man?" I laugh at the nickname. It's no secret that Tony excels in his Metals class.

"My father has a lot of enemies," Tony mumbles, punching in the code. The gates open smoothly, and we all begin walking up the long driveway to Tony house.

"So, are we actually going to run together, like, as wolves?" Darcy asks, bubbling with excitement. Tony nods.

"That's the general plan, yes. We're going to make a pack."

"And how exactly do we do that?"

"We all have to willingly run together in our wolf forms. A hierarchy will develop naturally, based on our personality and how we presented. Since it's rare for people to see each others' wolf forms, a bond of trust is developed, and a pack is formed." Jane nods in agreement.

"How do you know all of this?" I ask Tony.

"I was bored." I shoot him a skeptical look, but allow the issue to pass.

"Okay, anyways! Let's all drop our bags off inside, and then we can get ready to run." We all hurry inside, eager to let our wolves out.

Within five minutes, everyone is back outside, gathered together. We begin walking, heading out to one of the open fields that Tony owns. After about ten minutes of walking, we reach it. "Everyone ready?"

We all nod, before shifting to our wolf forms. I let out a yip of excitement at finally being able to let my wolf out. I can hear similar responses coming from my friends. As the transformation finishes, I look around. Clint is to the right of me, and he brushes his tawny fur against mine in reassurance. His blue eyes are sparkling with joy.

I recognize Thor's scent, and I turn to face him. He is a large wolf, with shaggy blonde fur. Loki is standing next to him, his fur as black as a raven's feathers. Turning, I see Bruce and Tony standing side by side. Tony has rich, chocolate brown fur, with a silver circle in the middle of his chest. Bruce is a mousy brown, with slightly longer hair than Tony.

Steve has very short blonde fur, with a white star on his chest. Darcy and Jane are standing close to each other, looking unsure of themselves. Jane has long, light brown fur, and Darcy has dark brown fur. We all begin running at the same time.

Clint and I take the front of the pack, flanked by Steve and Thor. Tony and Loki fall in behind the four of us. Bruce, Jane, and Darcy bring up the rear. We run together, happiness building in our chests. I let out a howl of exhilaration. Clint joins me next, and one by one, everyone begins howling.

We run through the field, heading towards a small patch of forest. Our pack weaves in and out of the trees, enjoying the outdoors. Finally, we slow to a stop. Clint licks my cheek, and I huff a laugh. Bruce and Darcy are cuddled up against each other, not seeming to care who sees them. As if by an unspoken command, we all phase back to our human forms.

"So, it looks like you and Clint are the Alpha pair," Tony remarks. Clint turns to me and smiles.

"Yeah, I guess so." We sit in silence for a few minutes, letting the endorphins wash over us. Eventually, I haul myself to my feet.

"It's getting dark. We should probably head back to the house," Tony suggests. We all nod, shifting back to our wolf forms. As the sun sinks farther down on the horizon, we race back towards the house, united as a pack.

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty Three

November 6th

Natasha's P. o. V:

We all stay up until almost 2 in the morning before falling asleep. I set an alarm, knowing that I'll have to wake up in time to go to my appointment. Clint sleeps next to me, spooned up against my back.

My alarm goes off far too early in the morning. I roll over, groaning as my back pops. Sleeping on the floor was not a good idea. I gently shake Clint awake. He immediately fumbles under his pillow, looking for a weapon. My heart aches at the sight. "It's just me," I soothe him. All of the tension immediately drains out of his body. "Let's get dressed and ready to go. I'll write a note for Tony and the rest of the group."

Quickly, I locate my bag and grab a change of clothes. Within a few minutes, I'm changed and freshened up. Clint is already waiting for me by the time I exit the bathroom. "Ready to go?" I ask. He nods.

"I'm always ready to be with you." I blush.

"Come on, corny." We both leave the house and begin walking towards town. My appointment is at the local Women's Care Center, and I can't afford to go anywhere better. Besides, there's no major hospital in town. The nearest hospital is over an hour away by car, let alone by bike or foot.

We finally reach the entrance of the building. Clint holds the door open from me, and I enter. It smells sterile, and my nose scrunches up in disgust. I spot at least one Omega who is probably in to have an abortion. She is curled in on herself, and her eyes are full of despair. I shudder and push myself closer to Clint as we walk up to the check-in desk.

"Appointment for Natasha Romanoff?" The lady behind the desk clicks some keys on her keyboard.

"Are you the 10:30 appointment?" I nod. "Go ahead and sit down. Dr. Fury will be with you soon." I find an empty seat and sit down next to Clint. My stomach twists with nerves. Fortunately, I do not have to wait long before my name is called.

"Please remove your shoes and step on the scale." I do as she requests, pointedly not looking at the scale. The nurse records my weight, and then ushers Clint and I into a room. "The doctor will be with you momentarily," she smiles, closing the door. I settle onto the paper covered table and wait, nervously clasping and in clasping my hands. Clint grabs them and forces me to stop.

"It's all going to be okay. Just relax." I take a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"You're right. I'm just being silly." Just then, someone knocks on the door and opens it. Dr. Fury steps in, carrying a computer. He comes over and shakes my hand.

"Hello, Ms. Romanoff. How have you been?" I shrug.

"Okay, I guess. It's been rough, but I'm managing. This is Clint, by the way." Dr. Fury turns to him and shakes his hand as well before sitting down and looking at his computer.

"So far, you've gained 11 pounds, which is right on track. Have you had any trouble with morning sickness? Any sporting or bleeding?" I shake my head.

"I haven't had morning sickness for a while, and I haven't noticed anything unusual."

"Good, good. I know that your step-mother didn't want to know the gender, but would you?" I nod.

"Yes, please."

"Okay. Lay back and lift your shirt a bit, please." I do as he asks, and he begins booting up the ultrasound machine. "I must warn you, this gel is colder that a witch's boob in a brass bra." Despite the warning, I still let out a gasp when the cold gel touches my skin. Goose bumps immediately erupt over my skin. Dr. Fury takes the transducer and begins rubbing it in circular motions across my belly. A grainy picture begins building on the screen.

"Can you see anything?" Clint asks. Dr. Fury nods.

"You see that white mass right there?" Clint nods. "That's your baby. There's the head, the fingers, and the legs." As he points out the different features, the shape begins to take on the form of a baby. Dr. Fury continues moving the transducer around, finally finding what he's looking for. "Do you see that?" he asks, pointing to the screen. I shake my head.

"No."

"That's because there's nothing to see. You're going to have a girl. Congratulations. Would you like a picture?" I nod, heart swelling with a love that I didn't think was possible. Seeing the baby on the screen makes it all seem so real, somehow. I've known that I was carrying a life inside of me, but it's never really hit me until now. Clint hands me a tissue, and I realize that my cheeks are damp. Quickly, I mop away the tears and blow my nose.

Dr. Fury hits a switch, and a loud pulsing sound fills the room. Clint looks at me in wonder, squeezing my hand. "Is that?" Dr. Fury nods.

"That's what your baby's heartbeat sounds like. She sounds perfectly healthy."

"Does the rest of her seem healthy? Is she the right size?" Dr. Fury nods.

"She's about 9 inches long right now, which is exactly where she's supposed to be. All in all, she appears to be completely healthy." Dr. Fury hands me a rag. "Go ahead and wipe the gel off. I'll print you off a picture and get you all ready to check out, okay?" I nod, taking the rag from him. He hands the picture to Clint.

"Thank you."

"No problem. Best of luck to you, Natasha. It was nice to meet you, Clint." With that, he exits, leaving us alone. I finish wiping the gel off of my stomach and I fix my clothes. When I am presentable, Clint opens the door for me, and we walk out. The nurse at the front desk makes short work of checking us out, and we begin walking back to Tony's house. As soon as we leave the clinic, Clint's face bursts into a huge grin.

"We're having a girl!" I allow myself to smile softly at his use of we're. I chuckle to myself.

"Yeah, Clint. We are." A smile forms on my face, and stays there until we reach Tony's house.

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty Four

November 6th

Natasha's P. o. V:

Clint and I hold hands the whole walk back to Tony's. JARVIS unlocks the gate for us, and we walk up the long driveway together. "So, we're going to have a baby girl," Clint grins at me. My heart melts at his use of we.

"Yeah, we are." The door opens right as we reach it, and Tony looks at us expectantly.

"Well? Is it a Toni with an I or a Tony with a Y?" I shoot him a look, but he refuses to step aside and let us in.

"It's going to be a girl, but we are not going to name her Toni." Tony's face falls, and he steps aside.

"Pics, or it didn't happen." I chuckle at Tony's stubbornness and pull the sonogram picture out of my pocket. Clint and I point out my baby's head, arms, and legs, before finally proving that it's a girl. Silently, Tony pulls money out of his wallet and pays everyone that bet it would be a girl.

"Maybe it'll be twins," Tony grumbles, eying my belly. I know that he's kidding, but my eyes well up with tears anyways. Tony is quick to try and fix his mistake, but I shrug him off, gather up my bags, and leave. Clint follows me, but I brush past him.

"I have to go to work. I'll see you at school tomorrow. I shouldn't have made you guys skip with me today to begin with." With that, I turn and head down Tony's driveway. I'll be early to work, but after taking off so much time already this week, it'll be good to get some time in.

Rick and Linda are happy to see me, and Linda folds me into a hug when I walk in. "You've been crying. Sit, I'll make some tea." I do as she requests, taking a seat behind the counter. A few minutes later, she returns with two teacups in her hands. I gratefully take one and begin sipping at the liquid, thankful for the warmth that it provides. "Now, would you care to tell me why you were crying?"

I allow myself to laugh. "It's stupid, really. One of my friends made a comment about whether or not I'm carrying twins, and it hurt my feelings. I've just been really self conscious ever since I got pregnant." My cheeks burn, and I take a sip of tea to hide my embarrassment. Linda pats my hand gently, laughing quietly to herself.

"When I was pregnant, I was the same way. We were watching a documentary on penguins, and one of their chicks got eaten by an elephant seal. I cried for hours. It'll get better, I promise." We talk for a while longer, since there are no customers currently in the shop.

"If you don't mind my asking, how many kids do you have?"

"Rick and I have two kids. They're both fully grown, with kids of their own. John lives in Seattle, Washington with his wife and son, and Mary lives in Lawrence, Kansas with her husband and son."

"They're lucky to have such wonderful parents," I say, sounding wistful even to my own ears.

"I heard about your step-mother, and I'm so sorry for your loss. How are you holding up?"

"I'm okay. I'll make it, but it'll take some time to get used to it." A customer comes in, and Linda leaves me to help them. I stand up, waiting for the customer to make their purchase. They shop for a few minutes, before picking up a few items and checking out. I begin working on my homework again, determined to catch up with the work that I missed.

Several different customers come in and make purchases, and I am thankful that I do not know them. Even at work, I doubt that they would leave me alone. Of course, good things can't last, and when the for opens next, I see a familiar face.

I recognize them as one of my classmates, one who liked to bully me. I sit behind the register, sipping my tea. How much different would my life have been if I had had loving parents? I would have never had to have dealt with the bullying, that's for sure.

The student who came in leaves without buying anything. I release a breath that I didn't realize that I had been holding. He's a member of the football team, and he makes me nervous. There's something sinister lurking behind his eyes. Linda comes up behind me, placing a hand on my shoulder. I jump slightly, and she apologizes.

"I don't like that kid. He's been coming around here lately, and there's something unsettling about him. He never buys anything. He always just looks around and leaves. You be careful going home, okay?" I nod, looking at the clock. It is already 7:00.

"Can I stay here for a while and help clean up? You don't have to pay me, but I'm not ready to go home yet." Rick nods.

"You're welcome to stay as long as you want. We appreciate the help." I offer him a small smile and grab a broom, sweeping up some of the leaves that the customers have dragged in over the course of the day.

After the floor is spotless, I begin wiping down the counters, taking my time with the task. I do not want to go home and face everything. As long as I'm busy, I'm happy.

Too soon, however, everything that can be done is finished, and I am forced to gather up my things and leave. A cold wind has sprung up, and I wrap my jacket tighter around my shoulders, picking up my pace. The wind gusts again, and I slip into an alleyway. It blocks the wind, and it'll get me home faster.

The damp walls feel as if they are closing in on me, and I speed up until I am almost jogging. My hand drops protectively to my belly. Suddenly, a hand clamps onto my shoulder and spins me around. Before I can scream, a rag is pressed to my nose, and everything disappears into blackness.

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty Five

November 6th

Natasha's P. o. V:

When I finally manage to pry my eyes open, I realize that I am tied to a chair, with my hands secured together with duct tape. My ankles, thighs, and shoulders are taped to the chair as well. My spine is forced into an arched position, making my almost 5 month pregnant belly jut out even more than usual. I immediately start struggling, the duct tape pulling at the hairs on my arms.

If I try to move the chair, I risk falling over, and I will not be able to break my fall. I could end up hurting my little girl. Nobody seems to be around, so I begin looking for an escape. I remember a basic self-defense course that Camille had me take, and suddenly, I'm thankful to her. I can get out of the duct tape around my wrists, and from there, I can get myself free.

I bring my arms up as far as I can, then quickly swing them downwards while pulling towards my hips. It is difficult to get enough force with my belly in the way, but after a few repetitions, I manage to break the duct tape around my wrists. Immediately, I begin freeing my shoulders, before bending down and freeing my feet. A sigh of relief escapes me as I finally stand up, unrestricted by the chair. My hands feel for my phone, before I realize that the bastards took my phone.

My eyes take in my surroundings, and it appears that I am in a storage warehouse unit. The air smells faintly of gasoline. A boat was probably stored here at one time. I file these details away, planning to use them when I escape and go to the police. Quickly, I begin making my way to the door.

Out of nowhere, my ears detect footsteps. Fear coils in my belly, and I begin desperately looking for a place to hide. Unfortunately, the room is completely empty, excluding the chair. I briefly consider acting like I'm still tied up, but then the door opens. The sudden flood of light from the flashlight that the person is carrying blinds me.

"What are you doing up?" the voice snarls, slamming the door shut. Before I can move, the person charges at me, grabbing me and pinning me against the wall. Pain blooms in my already bruised wrists, and I let out a small whimper. I hear a cruel chuckle in return. "Thought you could get away, didn't you? Don't try anything like that again, or you'll regret it." Despite his words, my knee jerks up, nailing him between the legs.

He falls to the ground, releasing me, and I sprint towards the door. Before I can reach it, he tackles me from behind. I twist to avoid falling on my stomach and end up landing on my hips. Pain lances through me, and I lay still. "That's it. I was going to play nice with you, but then you ruined it." I turn to look at him, memorizing his face. It's the quarterback of the football team. He has at least 6 inches and 100 pounds on me. If I recall correctly, his name is Austin.

**********************************

He morphs into his wolf form and begins dragging his claws through my clothes, scratching my skin in the process. I try to protect my belly, but when I move my hands, he bares his teeth and snarls at me. I quickly drop them. I will get out of this alive, no matter what. When my clothes are completely shredded, he morphs back to his human form and strips me completely naked. His bulging erection is prominently straining against the front of his pants. "Stay put. Don't move at all, or I'll make this even worse for you," he commands.

I can't move, even if I want to, thanks to the power that Alphas have over Omegas. Whatever he commands, I must obey. He works on stripping himself, making quick work of the task. Soon, he is completely naked, his erection bobbing. He kneels over me, stroking himself lazily.

"Ever since I first laid eyes on you, I knew that I would have you. When you got pregnant, I knew that I had to sample your greedy little pussy for myself. You're probably enjoying this, you little slut. Who's the father? You probably don't even know. You probably just let any knot-head who took an interest in you stick his dick in you. I bet you just milked the cum out of their cocks, begging for them to knot you! Didn't you, you dirty little whore?" I stubbornly refuse to answer. He slaps me hard across the face. "Answer me!"

My cheek stinging, I muster up all of the saliva in my mouth and spit it at him. He slaps me again, wiping his face. "I'll show you a better use for your mouth, although I'm sure you already know. You probably love sucking guys off, letting their cum slip down your throat, letting them fuck your mouth. Open your mouth, and don't even think about biting me," he commands.

Against my will, my mouth opens. He sticks his penis into my mouth, and I gag, eyes watering. He thrusts in and out, chuckling the whole time. "I bet you're enjoying this, you cock slut. I can't wait to try out your pussy. It'll be loose from all the guys that you've fucked." He pulls out of my mouth and begins groping my breasts.

"You've got gorgeous tits, but you've probably been told that several times." He takes my nipple into his mouth and bites down. I let out a cry of pain, and he begins sucking. Everything feels so wrong, and I want nothing more than for it to be over. Abandoning my breasts, his mouth moves lower, until he is licking at my thighs. He sucks at the skin, leaving behind dark hickeys. My body shakes with silent sobs as I wait for it to be over. He pauses for a second to slip a condom on. "Can't leave behind any evidence, now can I?"

Without warning, he shoves his penis into me. A strangled cry rises in my throat as I feel myself tear. "You're so fucking tight," he growls, thrusting into me. The sharp metallic scent of blood fills the air, and my thighs are coated with the red liquid. Pain radiates throughout my entire body, and tears trickle down my cheeks. Not soon enough, his thrusts become erratic. "I'm cumming! Your pussy is just soaking up all of my cum, you whore. You're milking me for my cum." I can feel his knot swell up, locking us together. He collapses on top of me, nipping and licking at my breasts.

Finally, after what seems like an eternity, his knot goes down enough that he can pull out. I let out a hiss as the ripped skin stings. He wipes the bloody condom on me, before discarding it and pulling on his clothes. I still cannot move, thanks to his earlier command.

**********************************

He walks to the door and opens it, and I worry that he's going to leave me here, unable to move. However, he leaves the door open and exits. He is gone for less than a minute, before he returns with a white bottle. My sensitive nose picks up the burning smell of bleach over the coppery scent of blood.

"You're not to breathe a word about this encounter to everyone. If anyone asks where you were, you'll tell them that you stopped to get food somewhere. You will go to school tomorrow. You will not mention my name, or anything about me to anyone. You will not tell anyone where this location is. If I find out that you found a loophole and told someone, I will hunt you down, and I will kill you and your bastard child. Do I make myself clear?" I nod, fear making me unable to speak. "Good."

He picks up a rag and opens the bottle, causing the nauseating scent of bleach to permeate the room. He hands me the rag. "Wash yourself completely. If I scent myself on you at all, even a hint when you're done, I will make you regret it." I do as he says, salty tears making tracks down my face. When I am finished, he scents me all over. Finally, he stands up, looking satisfied. "Five minutes after I leave, you may move and leave. Do not breathe a detail about this encounter."

With a smug smirk, he turns and leaves. As soon as he's out of sight, I begin trying to move, to no avail. With a sigh, I lay back and wait. Everything hurts. I feel so dirty, so violated. Every time I close my eyes, I imagine him touching me, grabbing me. Sobs shake my body as I wait for the long five minutes to pass.

At last, I discover that I can move again. I gather the shredded remains of my clothes, glad that my jacket was taken off before he came back. It is still in one piece. My pants are slashed in several places, but they will have to do. My underwear and bra are missing, and he never gave me back my phone. Quickly, I don my clothes and make my way towards the exit, every move causing a fresh wave of pain to rock through me. Pulling my jacket tighter around myself, I begin the long walk back home.

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty Six

November 7th

Natasha's P. o. V:

My body is stiff as I drag myself out of bed in the morning. I don't remember much about what happened after I got home. I know that I took a shower to wash away the bleach smell, but after that, everything is hazy. I wince as my legs move. Slowly, I shuffle to the bathroom and down some aspirin.

My makeup is done in record time, and I throw on sweats and a comfortable sweatshirt. A look in the mirror assures me that I look like I went through hell and back, but it will have to do. After making sure that my backpack is packed, I begin heading out of the house. Clint walking up the driveway as I am locking the door. He takes one glance at me and gives me a worried look. "Are you okay? I texted you several times last night, but you never answered."

"I'm fine. I lost my phone at work." The words rise out of me unbidden, before I can stop them.

"Where did you go after work? I was waiting for you to show up at your house, but you never did, so I went home."

"I - I went to grab some food." Resisting the words does not help. Austin's command over me still holds, and I growl in frustration. There's got to be a loophole somewhere! We walk in silence for a while, with me doing my best to hide my limp. My sleeves cover my bruised wrists, although the faint smell of bleach is still detectable.

"You're limping, and you smell weird. Did you go to the hospital last night?" I shake my head, praying for him to drop it.

"No. I was cleaning my floors, and I slipped and fell. I bruised my hip, but I'm fine." Clint looks skeptical, but thankfully, he lets the matter go.

"Well, try to find your phone tonight. I don't like not being able to contact you." I nod, nuzzling up against him. Maybe, under the bleach smell, there's some trace of Austin's scent. To my disappointment, Clint just pulls me closer to his side as we walk.

Too soon, we reach the school. My body automatically stiffens as I see a group of guys with letterman jackets. Austin is among them. Clint notices, shooting them a hostile look. Austin smirks, confident that his secret is safe with me. Rage boils in me, and I rip myself out of Clint's grasp and charge him. I barely get in one good blow before I am wrenched back by my bruised wrists. Austin brings his face level with mine. "Don't ever come near me again," he hisses. "Blame this on pregnancy hormones, or I will kill you." An involuntary shudder runs through me. His threats from last night still hang heavy in the air.

Clint takes my hand and leads me way. "What was that all about? They could have severely hurt you or your baby!" I shake my head.

"It must have been hormones. He reminded me of Mr. Richards, and I couldn't help myself."

"Don't do anything like that again, okay? I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I let something happen to you on my watch." I nod, curling against Clint. I can feel Austin's hands still wrapped around my wrists, and I feel dirty.

A fight breaks out next to Clint and I. Two girls, both on the cheerleading squad, are rolling around on the ground, fighting. "You promised that you wouldn't say anything to him about how I felt!"

"I didn't say anything! I wrote him a note. It doesn't count!" one of the girls howls, throwing a punch at the other. Teachers rush over and break up the fight, but not before an idea forms in my mind. I know how I'll be able to tell Clint.

During lunch, I borrow Steve's sketch pad and begin drawing. The details are burned into my mind, and my pencil skips across the page. After I finish the drawing, I add words around the edge, including rape, Natasha, Austin, last night, alley, boat, water, storage unit, assault, orders, and football. When I am finished, I tear out the page and stick it in my pocket. "Don't we get to see it?" Tony asks jokingly. I shake my head, not wanting to tell Clint in such a public setting. "Don't tell me you're still mad about my twins comment, are you?" I shake my head.

"No, it's a secret. I'll show you eventually, but not right now, okay? Bugging me won't make me show it to you any more quickly." Tony drops the matter, and the bell rings, dismissing us from lunch. Clint and I walk to our next class together, our hands linked together.

The rest of my classes pass in a blur, and I wait for the end of the day and the weekend. Clint notices my restlessness, but he doesn't comment on it. Finally, the bell rings, and Clint and I gather up our things and leave. After some time, I finally work up the courage to talk to Clint. "Can you come over? I want to show you something."

"Anything for you, sweetheart," Clint says, kissing me tenderly. Unconsciously, I pick up my pace, eager to reveal the truth to Clint. After what seems like forever, we reach my house and make it inside. "So, what is it that you wanted to show me? Am I going to like it?" I shrug noncommittally before reaching into my pocket.

Slowly, I draw the picture out of my pocket and hand it to him. His face is impassive as he unfolds it. "Is this going to be a picture of me?" I shake my head, biting my lip. Finally, the paper is completely unfolded, and Clint gets his first good look at the portrait that I drew.

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty Seven

November 7th

Natasha's P. o. V:

All of the color drains out of Clint's face, and he looks at me, rage glittering in his eyes. "I'll kill the bastard," he growls, teeth elongating. I brush up against him.

"You can't let him know that you know, or he'll kill me and my baby."

"I'd like to see him try to touch you. You're my mate, and mine alone." Gently, he grabs my wrists, but I flinch and pull away. "Shh, I'm sorry, honey, I wouldn't ever hurt you. You know that, right?" I nod, but I can't push away the memory of Austin's hands pinning my wrists down.

Silent sobs wrack my body. Cautiously, Clint pulls me into a hug. I allow him to, trying to push away the memories. Clint would never hurt me. All he's done is protect me. "Can I see?" Clint asks, gesturing to my wrists. I nod, allowing him to gently push up my sleeves.

Dark blue bruises circle my wrists. Clint lightly peppers kisses along the injury, his touch so light that I can barely feel it. "I'll be right back. I'm going to run to the drug store and get you some aspirin." Clint slips away before I can protest. Just as he slips out the door, I remember that I already have aspirin.

"Clint, wait!" I yell out the window, but it's too late. Clint is already gone. Anxiously, I pace back and forth, waiting for his return. After an hour, I finally hear footsteps walking up my drive. The door opens and closes, then locks. Footsteps too heavy to be Clint's ring up the stairs, and fear shoots through my belly. Unconsciously, I shift into my wolf form and shuffle into a corner.

My bedroom door opens, and the scent of sweat and cheap aftershave washes over me. Austin. "Where are you, you bitch? Found a loophole, did you? Well, you're going to pay for it. Nobody crosses me and lives to tell about it. Your boyfriend may be tough, but he's not tough enough to take on three of my pack at the same time." With a snarl and a quickness that I didn't know I possessed, I leap out of my hiding place and latch my teeth around Austin's throat. A knife glints, and a stab of pain goes through my side. Thankfully, it is only a glancing blow.

I clamp down harder until Austin drops the knife. Blood streams down his neck, but I am not biting to kill, only to knock him out. At last, he collapses to the ground. Cautiously, I unclamp my jaws. When he doesn't move, I shift back to my human form and take his knife away. Then, I tie him up as best I can with the bed sheets.

Shortly after I secure him, someone starts pounding on the front door. "Police! Open up, or we'll be forced to break down the door!" I let out a jagged sigh of relief before running down the stairs to unlock and open the door. Clint is on the other side, I can smell him. As soon as I open the door, police officers swarm in, guns drawn. "Ma'am, are you okay? We received a tip that someone may try to break into your home today."

"He did, and he's upstairs in my bedroom. I tied him up as best I could." Two of the police officers run up the stairs, heading to my bedroom. Clint encircles me in a hug. His lip is split and bleeding, and he has a black eye, but other than that, he appears to be okay.

"Are you okay? Did he hurt you?" I shake my head.

"He was going to. Clint, he had a knife. I just attacked, I was so scared..." Tears begin streaming down my cheeks as the adrenaline wears off.

"It'll be okay, honey. He's going to go away for a long time, along with his buddies. They won't ever bother you again, I promise." Clint leads me over to the couch, which I gladly collapse onto. A police officer follows us out.

"Ma'am, I know that you just went through an extremely stressful ordeal, but could you please tell me everything about your ordeal with this man?" I try to tell him about last night, but the words won't come. Clint offers him the drawing.

"He ordered her not to talk about it under the threat of death, but he kidnapped and raped her last night. She found a way to tell me, and I went to the police. Unfortunately, he anticipated this, and had several of his teammates waiting for me. They put up quite the fight, but gave up after I pulled a knife. After that, I ran to the police station and got them to send men here." The police officer turns to me.

"What happened tonight?"

"The door was unlocked, and he came inside looking for me. I could tell that it was him, so I shifted and hid. When he came into my bedroom, I attacked him and managed to take him by surprise. He managed to catch me in the side with his knife," I grimace, realizing that the wound is throbbing, and my shirt is plastered to my skin with blood.

"Thank you for your time and cooperation. There is an ambulance waiting outside if you wish to seek medical attention. I am sorry that this happened to you, and I can assure you that he will be punished for his actions. I'm sure that this isn't the first time he's pulled a stunt like this," the officer spits in contempt, before standing up and leaving. I snuggle against Clint's side, still shaking slightly.

"Come on, let's go get patched up." He helps me stand, and we both head out to the ambulance. I am examined carefully, and it is determined that I won't need stitches. The portable ultrasound machine shows that my baby is healthy and unharmed. Clint is given ice and some aspirin, and we head back into the house together. Two police officers escort Austin down the stairs. He is wearing handcuffs, and his throat is all bloody.

"I'll kill you, you fucking slut, even if it's the last thing I do," he promises, his voice low. The police officers jerk him forward, but a shiver of fear still runs through me. Clint pulls me close to him.

"If he attempts anything, he won't live long enough to regret it," Clint vows. A police officer comes up to us.

"That'll be all for tonight. We may call in the future, but for now, we'll be on our way."

"Could you please try to get my phone back? He stole it from me, and it makes me uncomfortable not to have a way to contact people when I'm not at home." The officer nods, tipping hat as he walks out the door.

"Will you stay with me tonight, since it's Friday?" I ask Clint, not wanting to be alone.

"Honey, it would be my absolute pleasure." With that, he presses a tender kiss to my forehead and leads me up the stairs to my bedroom. We both snuggle together in my bed, taking comfort in each others' presence.

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty Eight

November 8th

Clint's P. o. V:

Sunlight streams through the closed blinds, making everything behind my eyelids look red. Natasha is spooned against me, and my arm is wrapped around her. She stirs slightly, and I open my eyes. She twists around and looks at me. "Morning," she smiles, stretching languidly.

"Mornin'," I reply, giving her a kiss. "What would you like for breakfast?"

"I can get it. I'm pregnant, not invalid!"

"I have to take care of my favorite ladies, now don't I?" I smirk. Natasha huffs, but concedes.

"Pancakes sound good," she admits. I chuckle and crawl out of bed, being careful not to jostle her in the process. The cool air causes goosebumps to erupt along my bare chest and arms.

"I'll be back in a few. Love you!" My feet carry me quickly down the stairs and into the kitchen. After some cupboard searching, I manage to locate the ingredients needed for pancakes. While the griddle warms up, I deftly mix the batter and gather plates and utensils.

After flicking water onto the griddle to see if it's hot enough, I begin ladling batter onto the hot surface. Soon, the smell of cooking pancakes fills the kitchen. About ten minutes later, the pancakes are finished cooking. I put them on plates, grab the cups of juice, the syrup, and the butter, and then head upstairs.

Natasha is sitting up in bed when I return to her room. Her hair is combed, and it looks like she is wearing my abandoned shirt. She shrugs, looking embarrassed. "It was cold, and my closet is all the way over there," she admits. I smile, setting the tray of food down on her nightstand. She takes her plate and begins doctoring up her pancake. I do the same, watching her the entire time. "What are you staring at?"

"You. You're beautiful, you know that?" She blushes and ducks her head.

"Ihavestretchmarks," she mumbles quickly.

"Hmm?"

"I have stretch marks." Tears well in her eyes, and I immediately set my plate down and go over to her.

"Honey, that's completely natural. Those marks are special. They show that you're growing a human being inside of you, and if that's not fricking miraculous, then I don't know what is." Natasha pulls me into a hug.

"Thank you, Clint. You always know what to say." I give her a kiss, and we both begin eating again. The only sound comes from our forks and knives scraping our plates. Soon, we are both finished. I take our dishes downstairs and begin washing them. Natasha joins me, drying them. We finish relatively quickly.

"What would you like to do today?" I ask.

"I don't know about you, but I'm feeling really lazy. Want to boot up Netflix and watch some movies?" I nod, pleased at the prospect of getting to snuggle with Natasha.

We both settle in on the couch and get ready for a marathon of movies. After the first movie finishes, Natasha makes some popcorn, and we begin our marathon again.

It is getting dark by the time we decide to stop watching movies. "I should probably head home. I never actually asked Jack if I could spend the night." Natasha's face pales.

"Will you be okay?" I nod, although my stomach coils in uneasiness.

"Yeah. He's probably passed out drunk and doesn't even realize that I'm gone." Natasha leans in and gives me a kiss.

"Thank you for staying with me, Clint. I really appreciate it."

"Anything for you, sweetheart. I'll see you on Monday." Natasha nods me goodbye one last time, and I gather my belongings and leave. Natasha keeps my shirt, so I'm left wearing nothing but my sweatshirt and jeans. The cold wind bites through the fabric, and I pick up my pace. It may mean facing Jack sooner, but at least I'll be out of the cold.

The door is locked when I try it, and I don't have a key. With a sigh, I scale the tree next to my window and pry my window open. After entering and closing my window, I stop and listen. To my relief, there is no noise coming from downstairs. Jack must be passed out on the couch. Suddenly, my bed creaks, and the stench of alcohol hits my nose. "You little shit! Thought you could sneak out without me noticing, huh? Thought you could go spend time with that little pregnant whore?"

"She's not a whore!" I exclaim, cheeks coloring with rage. My teeth begin elongating, and it takes all of my self restraint not to lunge at Jack.

"She is, and you're a total dumbass for hanging around with her. She's using you. As soon as the kid is born, she'll run off, leaving you saddled with some bastard child!"

Jack's slander pushes me over the edge, and I lunge, shifting into my wolf form in midair. Jack lets out a yell and drunkenly falls off of the bed. My teeth sink into his leg, and I drag him across the floor. There is a glint of metal, and a stab of pain shoots across my flank. I can feel the blood dripping, matting the fur, and I clamp my jaw harder. All of the years of built up hurt and pain wash over me, and bloodlust takes over.

The sound of a safety being clicked off makes me come to my senses. "Release my arm now, or I'll shoot you." He's so drunk that he might miss, but it's not a chance that I'm willing to take. Grudgingly, I release his arm. It thuds against the wall, he swears, and a shot is fired. White hot pain lances through my shoulder, and I let out a howl of agony before transforming back to my human form.

"You shot me!" I shout incredulously, adrenaline and shock taking the edge off of the pain.

"If you don't get out of here right now, that'll be the least of your worries. I never want to see you again. You have five minutes to pack your shit and get out. If I ever see you on my property again, I'll make sure that I hit you somewhere a lot more deadly than your shoulder."

With that, he hauls himself up, cradling his arm, and lurches out of my room. Ignore the pain in my shoulder and leg, I begin throwing things into a bag. I don't have a lot of clothes, and the only other things I care about are my bow and arrows and a picture of my parents. The first aid kit is under my bed, so I grab it and throw it into my bag. I am done packing, with a minute left to spare.

Jack is swearing in the bathroom, no doubt trying to doctor his arm up. I slip out before he can change his mind about shooting me. Silently, I slip down the stairs and out the front door, shutting it behind me. The cold snaps me back to reality, and pain and blood loss make me dizzy. "Where can I go?" I ask myself, trying to focus on down thing other than the pain.

"I can tell you where you won't be going," a rough voice snarls. My head jerks up, trying to find the owner of the voice. At last, my eyes settle on a bulky, muscular man. I recognize him as a part of the football team. "Thought you could get away with putting Austin in jail, did you? Thought that you could protect your little whore? Well, think again," he snarls, advancing towards me. I'm too weak to run or fight, so I back up, trying to think of a plan.

My mind stays traitorously blank. "You've got nowhere to run. Don't you wish you would have minded your own business now?" I morph into my wolf form and begin to run, but I only get a few feet before dizziness from blood loss threatens to make me fall over. The boy, Ryan, saunters towards me, knowing that there's no way for me to escape. He morphs into his wolf form and approaches me. Without warning, he lunges for my throat.

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty Nine

November 8th-9th

Clint's P. o. V:

My eyes squeeze shut, and I pray that it'll be a quick death. However, after a couple of seconds, I hear a yip of pain, causing me to open my eyes again. The sight that meets my eyes is a welcome one.

Tony, Thor, Loki, Steve, Bruce, and Natasha have surrounded my attackers. Bruce is a lot larger than I remember, and his teeth are bared in a threatening snarl. Blood drips off of his lips, belonging to my would-be attacker. Two of my attacker's friends try to run, but Steve and Thor prevent them from moving.

Natasha morphs into her human form and comes over to me cautiously, as if I might attack her. "Clint, I know you're in a lot of pain, and you're scared, but I need to see your injuries. Is that okay?" With a start, I realize that she's worried that I might fight like a cornered animal. Without a second thought, I morph back to my human form. Natasha runs to me, trying to entangle me in a hug. I scramble backwards as best as I can, and she looks hurt.

"I've got a bullet in my shoulder, and it sort of hurts. I'd like to try and avoid any more pain, if possible," I manage to say, forcing myself to think clearly. My thoughts are jumbled, and I'm nauseous, due to blood loss.

"We should take you to the hospital." I nod.

"What are we doing about them?" I ask, motioning towards Austin's lackeys.

"Tony called the police and told them where to meet us. They'll be here soon." Sure enough, sirens split the air, and three cop cars pull around the corner. I try to walk over to them, but my knees give out, and I succumb to the blackness.

XxX

When I wake up, there are several IVs tugging at the back of my hand, and my shoulder and leg have thick bandages wrapped around them. My eyes scan the room and finally settle on Natasha. She is curled up in one of the uncomfortable chairs, sleeping fitfully. "Nat?" Her eyes flash open, and her face betrays her disorientation. She recovers herself quickly.

"You're awake! I was so worried," she admits.

"How long was I out?"

"About a day and a half. You really scared me, Clint." I offer her a small smile.

"I'm sorry. I'm okay now. I am curious, though. How did you know that I needed help?"

"It's hard to explain. I felt really uneasy, and then Tony texted me, asking if you were okay. I knew that you were heading home, so Tony and the rest of our friends came over immediately, and we came to your house. I'm glad we did. I can't imagine what would have happened if we'd arrived a second later."

"I'd be dead. I hope that this is the end of all of this."

"Me too," Natasha whispers, snuggling up against me as best she can.

"So, do you think that the reason that you could tell that I was in trouble was because of our pack bond?"

"That's actually what Tony and Bruce were thinking. It's a very real possibility." I shift uncomfortably on the bed, my shoulder throbbing. Natasha notices and presses the nurse-call button. Soon, a nurse walks through the door.

"Can you rate your pain for me, please?"

"Probably around a 6," I answer, wincing as my shoulder protests. The nurse nods sympathetically and injects some clear liquid into one of my IVs.

"This is some morphine. It'll make you sleepy, but it will help with the pain. When you feel better, we're going to have you talk to the police chief. By law, we're required to report any bullet wounds that we come across." I nod, eyes fluttering closed. The last thing that I'm aware of is Natasha's thumb stroking the back of my hand.

When I come to, Bruce is sitting in the room. I'm glad to see that Natasha went home to get some sleep. "Hey, Big Guy. Thank you for saving me the other night." Bruce blushes.

"You would have done the same for me. I'm just glad that you weren't hurt."

"I couldn't help but notice that you seemed bigger in your wolf form than you did when we ran as a pack. If you don't mind my asking, why is that?" Bruce sighs.

"No, it's fine. When I was younger, it was discovered that I have a rare genetic mutation. I have my normal wolf form, but when I'm upset or angry, I also have a larger wolf form. It's been a while since he's been out."

"I'm glad that he was. Without him, I be dead," I say matter-of-factly. I flex my should experimentally, glad that my advanced healing is working. By tomorrow, I should be fine to use my arm as usual. "When can I bust out of here?" As if on cue, a nurse walks into the room.

"How are you feeling?"

"Fairly good, actually. When can I leave?"

"Right after you talk to the police chief. He's here now, if you're ready." I nod, and the police chief walks in. He asks me several questions, and I bend the truth slightly. If they found out that Jack is the one that shot me, they'd put me in a foster home, and I'm going to do my damnedest to avoid that.

The interview ends, and the nurse reenters, carrying a clipboard. "Normally, we'd need a guardian's signature to release you, but it looks like you're good to go. The bill has already been paid by Mr. Stark." I thank her, and she helps me get ready for my departure.

Bruce walks with me back towards my house, but I remember what Jack said. "Can we go to Natasha's house?" Bruce nods, his keen eyes picking up on my uncomfortableness, but he doesn't say anything. When we reach Natasha's driveway, Bruce waves goodbye, and I walk up and knock on the door. Natasha answers right away.

"You can spend the night here." I realize that she must have pieced together that none of my attackers had guns.

"Thanks. I really appreciate it, Nat."

"Actually, if you want to, you could stay here. Permanently," Natasha offers, her voice small, as if she thinks I'll reject her. I pull her into a careful hug. A few tears stream down my cheeks, unbidden.

"Thank you, Natasha. You're so much more than I deserve," I whisper against her hair. Natasha shakes her head and pulls me closer.

"You're everything I've ever wanted and more. Thank you, Clint." She kisses me gently, and we hold each other, enjoying the close contact.

Chapter Text

Chapter Thirty

November 10th

Natasha's P. o. V:

I could tell last night when Clint came over that something had happened between him and Jack. He had a bag full of his belongings beside him when he was attacked. Tony gave me the bag after we found out that Clint would be okay. As we are getting dressed and ready for school, I bring up last night.

"Forgive me if I'm prying, but what happened between you and Jack? I know that none of your attackers had a gun, and you were already pretty weak when we got there." Clint hesitates. "It's okay if you don't want to tell me. I'd understand completely." Clint takes a shuddering breath before answering.

"No, you have the right to know, especially if I'll be living with you now. Jack was angry that I wasn't home, and he started to insult you. I defended you, and then, we fought. He had a gun. I'm lucky to be alive," he admits. I pull him in for a kiss.

"I'm glad that you're okay. We have to get ready to leave soon, or we'll be late for school." I grab a granola bar and begin munching on it as we walk out the door. The walk to school is fairly quiet. Clint and I hold hands the entire way, unable to be separated.

He doesn't know it, but I was a mess while he was out. Bruce and Steve had to drag me away from his bedside to go get food. I don't know what I would have done if something serious would have happened to him.

Too soon, we reach the school. I notice that the space where the football team usually gathers is conspicuously empty. Our group is standing beneath a tree. As Clint and I approach, Tony smirks. "What are you grinning about?" I ask.

"Oh, nothing," Tony replies, too innocently.

"What did you do?" Clint demands, getting in Tony's face. Tony completely loses it, bursting out laughing.

"I was going to tell you two to get a room, but it seems that you already did. You guys reek of each other!" I blush.

"We - we didn't -." Tony's grin broadens.

"I know that, but you shared a bed."

"Keep it down," I hiss. "The rumors finally stopped swirling around us, and you're just going to stir them up again." Tony at least has the decency to look abashed.

"Is it really that noticeable?" Clint asks. Tony nods.

"I smelled you guys long before I saw you." My blush deepens.

"I hope no one else notices." A quick glance around tells me that nobody has. They probably don't care enough to acknowledge us, anyways. The bell rings, signaling that it is time to head to class.

Clint and I head to gym. My t-shirt strains across my belly, but I ignore it. Clint loves me, and it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks. We complete our warmup quickly, although not as quickly as we have in the past.

My 5 month pregnant belly is beginning to slow me down. Clint nudges into me, as if he can tell what I'm thinking. "It's normal. You're still blowing everyone else out of the water." I grin. Coulson is shocked every time that I outperform the other students.

We're playing kickball, which is relatively safe. The only way to get injured is to take a line drive while trying to catch the ball, and even then, it's not too bad. The hour goes by quickly, and before I know it, it's time to head to my next class.

The rest of the day passes quickly. Clint and I walk back to my house together. "I still can't believe that I moved in with you. We're just barely teenagers," Clint says, sounding awed. I shake my head.

"That may be the case, but we've been through things that other kids our age couldn't even begin to imagine." Clint nods, pulling me close as we walk up the driveway. He leans into my neck and sniffs. My body tenses for a second, but I remind myself that it's just Clint.

"What Tony said today got me thinking."

"About?" I ask, as I unlock the door.

"About the idea of being your mate," Clint admits in a small voice. My heart swells at the words.

"Clint, I'd love nothing more." Clint scoops me up as if I weigh nothing. He carries me up to our shared bedroom and gently places me down on the bed.

"Are you sure that you want to do this? I'd totally understand if you didn't." I shake my head.

"I know that you'd never hurt me." Clint's body melts against mine as he leans down for a kiss, being careful of my belly. I kiss him back fervently, hands roaming under his shirt. He straightens up and strips his shirt off, helping me with mine as well. Our pants follow. Clint's eyes roam over my almost naked body with stark appreciation.

"You're so beautiful," he breathes, kissing me. His hands roam gently over my breasts, so much different from the way my past two "lovers" treated me. His mouth trails down my chest, leaving sloppy kisses down my body. His hands reach up and help me undo my bra, before sliding my panties down my legs. I resist the urge to cover up, to try and hide my imperfections.

Clint gently inserts his finger inside of me, sliding it in and out. I can feel slick beginning to pool, making me wet. Clint growls in approval, his pupils blown wide with lust. Another finger is slipped in, and then another. I cry out, writhing beneath him. "Clint, I need you!" I half-sob.

Clint draws closer to me, positioning himself carefully. I can feel every inch of his thick penis as it slides into me, leaving me feeling wonderfully full. I can see that it is taking all of Clint's strength not to thrust quickly. I buck my hips up, looking to gain more friction. "You can go faster than that," I murmur. "I'm ready." Clint doesn't need any more encouragement.

His hips plunge forward, rocking me back and forth. Pleasure shoots through my body, and it startles me. I've never experienced this before. Clint slows, noticing my falter. "Are you okay? Did I hurt you?" I shake my head, and he begins thrusting again, leaning down to capture my lips with his own. I can feel his knot beginning to swell.

"Oh, God, Clint, I need you knotted inside me. Please, Clint. Mate me!" Above me, Clint's incisors are lengthening, pushing out from between his lips. I roll my neck to the side, baring it to him. As his teeth close around my neck, an orgasm flares through me, and his knot locks us together. Clint carefully maneuvers us onto our sides so that he doesn't crush me.

I snuggle up against him, still bathing in the aftershocks of my orgasms. A sense of contentment washes over me as we cuddle. Suddenly, Clint starts laughing. I turn around to face him, confused. "What's so funny?"

"If Tony thought we smelled like each other before, he's going to have the shock of his life tomorrow!" I join in with his laughing until tears stream down my cheeks. At last, Clint and I are mates.

Chapter Text

Chapter Thirty One

November 11th

Natasha's P. o. V:

Clint and I fell asleep in each other's arms. When I wake up, Clint has me tangled in his grasp, pulling me right against his body. I snuggle against him, reveling in the fact that he's my mate now. I turn my head to look at the clock, and my neck twinges. Where Clint marked me is still a little sore. Clint begins stirring next to me. "What time is it?"

"It's about 5:55. The alarm will go off in roughly five minutes. I just want to stay here and snuggle with you for a while," I admit. Clint growls happily and nuzzles my throat. He sniffs quickly, scenting me.

"You smell like me, now." A happy sound rumbles in my throat.

"I wouldn't have it any other way." The alarm goes off, and I groan and hit snooze. "We should probably get up soon. I need a shower before we go." My thighs and neck are sticky with dried bodily fluids. Clint smiles apologetically, but I wave it away.

"Don't be embarrassed. I'm glad that we're finally mates. I don't care what others say. After everything we've been through, I'd say that an early mating is the least of our worries." Gently, I extricate myself from his long limbs and gather up clothes to change into after I shower. I almost want to invite Clint to shower with me, but we are already running a little late as it is.

I am showered and dressed within 15 minutes, making up for some of the time spent cuddling with Clint. We walk to school together, hand in hand. Every once in a while, Clint leans over and scents me, as if reassuring himself that I'm still his.

We make it to the school without incidence. Immediately, our eyes seek out our group of friends. They see us as soon as we see them, and Tony lets out a whoop of excitement. I growl and narrow my eyes, warning him not to say a thing. He lowers his head and backs away, deferring to Clint and I as Alpha pair of the pack. Thor, however, does not understand my warning, and bounds over to Clint and I with a happy look on his face.

"Ah, you two have finally mated with each other! This is a most joyous occasion. We must feast in honor of the union of our two friends!" he declares. I roll my eyes and resist the urge to facepalm. Thor means well, but he can be so clueless.

One by one, the rest of our group approaches, cautiously congratulating Clint and I on our mating. The bell rings, and we head inside, separating to go to our respective classes. As soon as we walk into the locker room, Coulson's head raises, and he gives us a knowing look. A small smile turns his lips up, and I am glad that he will not oppose our mating.

Gym passes quickly, with only a few halfhearted comments thrown our way about how we reek of each other. I don't let it bother me, still caught up in the high of finally being mated to Clint.

In history, Hill throws us a dirty look as we walk in, and I have to resist the urge to smirk. She's just jealous because we're mated and she isn't. "I don't care if you two are mates. I expect you to pay attention during class, and all public displays of affection are not allowed." Clint and I nod affably, determined not to let anything spoil our good moods.

My classes without Clint are harder to get through. I can feel our strengthening bond pulling at me, trying to get me closer to Clint. I do my best to ignore it and focus on Math and Science, but it is difficult. My whole body relaxes when I walk into Study Hall and see him sitting in his usual spot. Judging by the way his shoulder relax, he was having a hard time being away from me, as well.

Study Hall passes quickly, and Clint and I walk to work. I've been discussing possibly hiring Clint as well with Linda, and she's been very agreeable. If everything went well, Clint will be able to work with me. Clint and I walk through the doors of the shop, and Linda greets us. A knowing smile splits her face as she smells the air. She offers Clint an apron. "Welcome to the family, hon." Clint beams at her.

"Thank you so much, ma'am. I promise that you won't regret it!" Linda smiles.

"I'm sure I won't. Rick and I are getting old, and it's nice to have the extra help around the store." Clint nods understandingly, before grabbing a broom and setting to work. I settle in behind the register, glad that Clint will be able to join me at work.

Linda joins me behind the counter. "So, you and Clint finally mated, huh?" My cheeks burn, but I nod.

"We figured that there was really no point in waiting, all things considered," I admit, gesturing to my distended abdomen. Linda laughs good-naturedly. "Thank you so much for giving Clint the job. We both really appreciate it.

"It's no problem, sweetie. Like I said, we're getting up there in years. Besides, it's hard for new mates to be separated from each other. This way, you don't have to be." I reach over and give Linda a hug, thankful for her kindness.

Time flies by, and before we know it, it is time to head home. Clint and I thank Linda and Rick again for giving Clint the job, before we begin to make our way home. We walk in silence, sides pressed against each other for warmth and comfort. At last, we reach our house.

Tired from the day, we collapse onto the couch together. Clint flicks the TV on, and we cuddle and watch some crime show. Soon, we are completely engrossed. When the credits roll, my stomach grumbles, and I realize how hungry I am. Clint helps me sit up, and we wander out to the kitchen.

I watch Clint as he cooks, enjoying seeing how utterly engrossed he gets in the task. Soon, the smell of cheesy omelets fills the air. Clint finishes cooking and brings two plates out to the table. We eat quietly, just enjoying each other's company. By the time we finish eating and clean up the kitchen, it is time for us to head to bed.

We snuggle together on the bed, arms and legs entwined. I bury my face in Clint's neck, inhaling his scent and letting it wash over me. He leans over and does the same, and we drift off to sleep, enveloped in each other's arms.

Chapter Text

Chapter Thirty Two

November 12th

Natasha's P.o.V:

Clint is awake and moving before the alarm even goes off. As I get ready, the smell of French Toast wafts ups the stairs. My stomach grumbles, and I chuckle as I go off to shower. I am ready in record time, eager to taste some more of Clint's cooking. As we sit at the table and eat, I smile at my mate. "How did you learn how to cook so well?" Clint blushes.

I didn't have a lot of friends at the orphanage, believe it or not," he chuckles wryly. "One day, one of our caretakers decided to take pity on me and become my friend. She allowed me to be in the kitchen while she worked. As I got older, she started to teach me how to cook." I get up and go hug him.

"Well, I'm glad she did. I can cook, but nowhere near as well as you. Our pup enjoys the food, too." Suddenly, I stop, realizing that I said 'our.' "I didn't mean…" I trail off. Clint shrugs it off.

"I don't care that this pup is not technically mine. I still intend to take care of her and love her as if she was my own." I kiss his nose, causing him to snort and shake his head. "Way to ruin the moment!" Clint grumbles. I laugh.

"I don't do sappy moments. You should know this by now." Clint nods, and we both finish eating, before getting up to take care of the dishes. By the time we finish, it is time to begin heading to school. Clint and I walk hand in hand, contentment washing over us. Too soon, the school building comes into view. Tony, Bruce, Steve, Thor, Loki, Pepper, Jane, and Darcy are all standing in a group in our usual spot. I go up and greet the two girls. "Long time, no see," I grin. Darcy looks me over, a look of mock astonishment on her face.

"I think you're even bigger than the last time I saw you!" I roll my eyes.

"Yes, Darcy, that tends to happen when someone has a living thing growing inside of them." Darcy sniffs the air, looking at my neck. Her eyes settle on my Bond mark, and I resist the urge to blush.

"So, did you and Clint finally bump nasties?" Clint groans next to me, and Steve looks like he would rather have the ground suck him up than endure any more of this conversation.

"As a matter of fact, we did. Are you happy, now?"

"Extremely so," Darcy smirks, looking satisfied. Jane pulls Darcy off to the side.

"I'm sorry for her complete lack of manners. She just says whatever happens to be running through her mind at the moment," Jane glares at Darcy. Darcy shrugs, as if to say 'What can you do?' I laugh it off.

"It's fine. I'm over it." The bell rings, warning us that it is time to go inside and begin getting ready for our first hour classes. Clint and I walk to gym and begin getting ready. As I change into shorts, I notice the scars on my belly, hips, and thighs. A shudder goes through me, and I sincerely hope that I'll never find reason to cut again. Clint seems to sense what I am thinking, and he comes over and gives me a hug. I let him hold me for a while, before we go out into the gym and begin our laps. By the end of it, I am sweating heavily and breathing hard. My chest heaves with short, shallow breaths, and panic lances through my body. Clint pulls me off to the side and signals for Coulson to come over. After making sure that the class is occupied, Coulson comes over.

"What's the matter? Is she okay?" I am bent over, still trying to catch my breath. "Go into the locker room. I'll be in in a second. This way, you won't have a bunch of people ogling over you." Clint nods and helps me into the locker room. I lay down on my back on the bench, struggling to draw a deep breath in. Coulson comes in a few minutes later. "Ms. Romanoff, I know that this is scary, but I need you to listen to me. You need to sit up. By laying on your back, you could be blocking off some of the arteries, which could cause damage to the baby." With Clint's help, I manage to sit up. My breaths are beginning to come more easily.

"I don't understand. Why am I suddenly unable to run the laps? I was fine at the beginning of the week."

"Your baby probably shifted position and is now making you fight it for breaths. Just take it easy. You probably shouldn't be running this far into your pregnancy, anyways. The jarring motions could inadvertently harm your baby." Fear runs through my body, and my hand drops to my belly. Coulson raises a soothing hand. "You should be fine. I'd just advise against it in the future. Starting tomorrow, I'll have a new warm-up schedule for you, one that is safer for you and the baby.

"Thank you," I say, finally managing to regain my breath.

"No problem," Coulson smiles. "You're one of my best students, pregnant or not. You too, Clint." Clint allows himself a small smile at the praise. "Are you ready to go back out? We'll be doing a yoga and relaxation unit for a couple of weeks, starting today. If you want, I can come over and teach you some breathing exercises while the rest of the class is working," Coulson offers. "I used to teach a pregnancy class before I became a teacher here." I smile.

"Thank you so much, for everything. It seems like you're the only teacher that doesn't hate me." Coulson shakes his head.

"None of the teachers hate you. Some of them disagree with your situation, but they don't hate you."

"Could have fooled me," I grumble, standing up and preparing to go back out into the gym. Other students start filing into the locker room, having just finished their laps. Clint and I walk out to the gym together. The rest of the hour goes smoothly, and soon, Gym is over. I'm glad for that. I'm not sure how much more excitement I can handle, and it's only first hour.

Chapter Text

Chapter Thirty Three

November 12th

Natasha's P.o.V:

In English, I am assigned a group project. "You will be working to create a presentation about The Outsiders. It can be a video, a PowerPoint, or a poster, but you all must work on it. It will be due in two weeks." The class groans in response. "However, I am not evil. You all may choose your own partners. I want three in a group." Unfortunately, Clint is not in my class, but fortunately, Steve and Tony are. We pair up immediately, thankful that we get to choose our own groups. The rest of the class time is given to us to begin brainstorming what we want to do for our projects. Tony suggests that we get as much of it done today as we can, so that we do not have to worry about it later, especially since teachers will be assigning multiple projects to be completed before the upcoming break. Since I do not have to work tonight, I agree, and Tony invites us over to his house after school.

The rest of the day flies by in a blur. I tell Clint that I will not be able to walk home with him, since I have to go work on our project. "That's okay. Is it okay if I have Bruce and Thor over to work on our project?" I chuckle.

"It's your house too, you know." Clint looks awestricken.

"Yeah, I guess it is! Anyways, have fun. I'll see you later tonight." I give him a kiss.

"Love you!"

"Love you, too. Good luck on your project."

"You too." We exchange one last kiss, before going our own separate ways. Tony makes a retching noise as I walk up, and I backhand him. "You're just jealous. Now, shall we go to your house?" Tony nods, rubbing the back of his head. Together with Steve, we begin the journey back to Tony's house.

Once there, we work on the project for at least two hours before getting bored. Tony yawns. "We're almost done. Who wants to take a break and do something fun?" Steve and I share a nervous look. Tony's idea of fun is very different from ours. "Come on. I promise that it's perfectly safe." With some reluctance, Steve and I agree. Tony leads us out to his garage, where there are several flashy sports cars. "Want to take one out for a spin?" I look at Steve.

"This is your idea of safe? We don't have our licenses. Besides, do you even know how to drive?" Tony nods.

"Yeah, Jarvis showed me how. Come on. I could drive one of these in my sleep." Steve and I reluctantly climb into the car. Steve rides shotgun, and I sit in the back. The seat belt is tight and cuts into my belly, so I refrain from putting it on. After all, we'll only be gone for a few minutes. Steve and Tony both buckle in, since they're in the front seat. Tony backs the car out of the garage without hitting anything, and some of my anxiety eases. Soon, we are cruising around town. As time goes on, though, Tony becomes more and more reckless, going faster than the speed limit and ignoring road signs.

"Tony, you need to slow down!" Steve commands.

"You aren't the boss of me," Tony whines.

"Actually, I am, since you're a Beta and I'm an Alpha," Tony growls and petulantly presses on the accelerator. The car speeds up until we are doing at least 25 miles over the speed limit.

"Tony, watch -." Steve doesn't have time to finish his command before Tony blows through a stop light. I look out the window and see a red Hummer heading directly towards me. Before I can say anything, the car hits us, we spin out, and everything goes black.

The first thing that I am aware of when I come to is the amount of people that are in the room that I am in. It seems as if every one of my friends has somehow managed to cram themselves into the small space. The second thing that I notice is the tightness around my belly. "It's a fetal monitor," Clint explains, noticing that I am looking at it. His voice sounds rough and harsh, and if he's been crying. "Is the baby okay?" Clint nods, and I let out a sigh of relief. I've gotten insanely lucky. I try to stretch, before realizing how sore my body is.

"How long was I out?"

"About an hour." I notice that Tony is missing. My eyes search for Steve, to see if he is missing as well. After a few seconds, my eyes land on him. He has a few bruises and cuts on his face, but other than that, he seems to be fine.

"Where's Tony?" Clint's eyes darken, and he growls at the mention of Tony's name.

"He has his own hospital room."

"Is he okay? He was buckled in, and his side of the car isn't the one that got hit. What happened?"

"His injuries aren't from the accident," Clint snarls, barely repressed rage making him shake. I gasp.

"You didn't!" At this, the room begins to empty out.

"We'll check in with you later, okay?" Steve says, shooting me an apologetic look.

After the room has emptied completely, I turn to Clint. "What. Did. You. Do?" Clint whines and averts his eyes, looking sheepish.

"He hurt my mate with his foolish actions. I was so scared that you or the baby weren't going to make it," he admits, looking at the floor.

"Is he going to be okay?"

"He'll be fine. He's going to have a black eye and a hell of a concussion, but he should be fine."

"Clint, you have to think before you act. You're Alpha of our pack. Just because one of our packmates did something stupid doesn't give you the excuse to go ballistic and attack them. An Alpha has to be fair and just, or it'll never work out." Clint nods and lets out a sigh.

"I'll apologize later. Right now, I'm just glad that you're okay." I roll over to offer him my hand, when a sudden wave of nausea overtakes me.

"Clint, I need a bucket. Now," I retch, stomach heaving. Clint scurries to the side of the bed and grabs a trashcan, thrusting it at me. I take it and lean over. Immediately after leaning over, my stomach clenches, and I vomit into the trashcan. Finally, after a few more heaves, my stomach settles enough that I can lean back. I drag my hand across my mouth, trying to wipe away some of the mess. To my horror, my hand comes back streaked with blood. I wordlessly show Clint, and he dives for the Nurse Call button. As the nurses begin rushing in, my vision fades, and everything goes black once again.

Chapter Text

Chapter Thirty Four

November 12th

Natasha’s P. o. V:

I can feel someone gently slapping my face, forcing me back into consciousness. A bright light shines in my eyes. “Her pupils are responding. Heart rate and blood pressure are stabilizing. Fetus seems to be stable.” I blink a few times, bringing the hospital room into focus. Doctors and nurses surround me. “Ms. Romanoff, how are you feeling?” I groan.

“Sore, but not nauseous. What happened? Is my baby okay?”

“Your baby is fine. You’re a very lucky woman, Ms. Romanoff. The blood was black, which means that there was internal bleeding, but it stopped before you vomited. We would have seen it on the x-ray for your ribs, but it seems that your baby blocked our view. You’re going to be sore from the accident for a few days, but you should already be on the road to recovery.”

“What do I need to do to heal?”

“Well, you have several cuts and bruises all over your body, and three of your ribs are cracked. You have a large contusion on your head from your head hitting the seat in front of you. There was some brain swelling earlier, but it has gone down a great deal. We didn’t want to bring you back to consciousness too soon, so that your brain swelling would have time to go down. Someone was looking out for you today, Ms. Romanoff.” I nod, letting out a shaky breath. Tears prick my eyes as I realize how badly things could have ended up.

“You need to take it easy for the next couple of days. We’ll teach you how to wrap your ribs correctly to alleviate the pain while they heal. None of the cuts were serious, so they didn’t need stitches. Just make sure that they don’t get infected. Your wolf blood will help to speed up the healing. Also, since we need to monitor your brain swelling, we’ll need to come in and check on you every couple of hours. Try not to go to sleep. After we release you, you can go back to sleeping normally.” I nod my thanks, trying to absorb all of the information.

The nurses begin to leave, and a new woman walks up to my bedside. “Hello, I’m Ms. Deacon. I work with Child Protective Services, and I’d like to ask you a few questions, if that’s okay.” I stifle a groan, looking towards Clint. He gives me a quick nod and leaves the room.

“What’s the matter?”

“It has been brought to our attention that you have been living on your own for the past few weeks, despite agreeing to live with your legally appointed guardian, Mr. Richards. Would you care to explain why that is?” Anger floods through my veins, causing my heart monitor to beat faster. I force myself to calm down, reminding myself that she’s just doing her job.

“He raped me,” I manage to whisper. “I don’t care how well he treats me now. I can’t look at him without remembering what he did to me. I can’t live with him. I can’t,” I force out, tears leaking down my cheeks. My hand drops protectively to my belly.

“Unfortunately, since you are under legal age, I am required to either return you to his home or put you into a foster home. You cannot be allowed to live by yourself with no adult supervision. Also, we learned that Clint Barton has been living with you as well, despite the fact that he is supposed to be living with his stepfather. He is legally obligated to return to his home as well.”

“You can’t do that! His stepfather will kill him!” The words slip out before I can stop them.

“That is a very serious accusation. We will have someone look into it, but for now, Clint must return to his home with his stepfather.” Angry tears stream down my face. “Arrangements will be made for you to be put into a foster facility after you are released from the hospital. Someone will contact Clint and look into his case. Thank you for your cooperation, and best of luck with your recovery.” With that, Ms. Deacon gets up and leaves. I slump back against the pillows, fear coursing through my body. Clint reenters the room.

“Are you okay? What was that all about?”

“They’re going to put me in foster care, and they’re going to make you go back and live with your stepfather.” Clint is silent for a moment, his face schooled into a careful mask.

“I’m not leaving you, and I’m certainly not going back to live with that asshole. There’s got to be something that we can do.”

“The only problem is, we’re minors. Neither of us have living relatives that can take us in. I don’t think that we’re going to have a choice”

“I’m pregnant. No one is going to want to foster me. Clint, I’ll end up in another orphanage. I can’t go back to that.” Clint pulls me close.

“We’ll figure something out, I promise. They can’t separate me from my mate.” He growls possessively at the thought. There is a knock at the door, and Tony sheepishly pokes his head in. One of his eyes is swollen shut, and there are several cuts on his face.

“How are you doing?” he asks, snark gone. “I’m so, so sorry. I understand if you never want to talk to me again.” I let out a big sigh.

“Things are going to change a lot now, and I’m worried. CPS would have figured out that we were alone eventually.”

“Wait, what are you talking about?” Clint quickly gives Tony a rundown of what happened. All of the color drains from Tony’s face.

“This is my fault. I can get you guys a lawyer. I won’t let you guys go back into the foster system, not when you were finally starting to start a new life together,” Tony vows. My eyes fill with tears for the umpteenth time since I regained consciousness.

“Tony, you don’t have to do this. I don’t blame you for it. You should have been more careful with driving, but the CPS getting involved is not your fault.” Tony rubs the back of his head.

“My dad is going to have to pay a hefty fine for allowing a minor to go for a joyride. I’m going to be in so much trouble after I get out of the hospital. I probably will only be able to leave my house to go to school,” Tony pouts. “Oh well. That could have been a lot worse, and I’m so glad that you’re okay. I deserved every punch that Clint threw at me, and then some.” I shoot a look at Clint.

“I understand how he was feeling, but he never should have attacked you. That was wrong, and he owes you an apology.” Clint mumbles an apology, and I elbow him in the ribs. He winces and rubs at them, before offering a clear apology. “Thank you.” Tony offers me a sad smile.

“I hope you feel better soon. I’m really, really sorry.” I nod, and Tony leaves. Clint sits down heavily in the chair next to my bed. I reach out and grab his hand.

“It’ll work out. These things always do.”

“For our sake, I really hope that you’re right.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Thirty Five

November 14th

Natasha’s P. o. V:

I was released last night, but I was not allowed to go back home. Instead, I was forced to go home with Ms. Deacon, until I can be placed into foster care. Clint was forced to go back to his house, despite our protests. Ms. Deacon assured us that someone would be checking up with him soon, to investigate the child abuse accusations, but I can only hope that it won’t be too late. Ms. Deacon insisted that I go to school today to get all of my catchup work so that I can work on it over the weekend. I reluctantly agreed, mostly so that I could see Clint.

Clint is already in the locker room when I get there. I carefully scan his face for injuries, but I don’t see any, much to my relief. However, he is moving stiffly, as if every movement hurts. I rush over to him, being careful of my still-healing ribs. “What did he do to you?” I fiercely whisper.

“He was so angry that I came back. He threw me around and kicked me. I think some of my ribs are cracked.” My blood boils in anger.

“I don’t want you to be in the foster system again, but you can’t keep living there. He’ll kill you!” More people start to stream in, forcing our conversation to come to a halt. Clint and I both get dressed and head out to the gym. Coulson is already waiting for us.

“How are you two doing? I heard about the accident.” Clint shrugs, although it is obvious that he is in pain.

“I wasn’t in the accident.”

“Really? It would seem that something happened,” Coulson says, his eyes piercing Clint’s. Clint squirms under the attention. “You know that you can talk to me, right? Not as a teacher, but as an equal. If something is going on, I promise, I’ll do whatever I can to help you.” Tears of gratitude fill my eyes. Clint regards Coulson warily. Our classmates begin to trickle out into the gym and begin their laps. Coulson gives me a different warm-up, and he allows Clint to do it with me. Thankfully, it is easy, and our injuries do not protest. Afterwards, Coulson begins teaching the class how to do yoga. When everyone is occupied, he rejoins Clint and I. “Forgive me if I’m prying, but I heard that you were put into foster care. Is everything okay?” I nod, letting out a shaky breath, but the tears in my eyes betray my true feelings.

“Child Protective Services found out that Clint and I were living alone in my stepmother’s house. They were going to force me to go back and live with Mr. Richards, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t go back to him, not after what he did to me,” I trail off. Coulson shoots me a sympathetic look.

“If you want to come down here with Clint during your lunch, we can talk. Only if you want to, though. I’m just trying to help.” I nod, hardly daring to hope that someone actually cares.

“Okay.” Coulson smiles, and begins teaching me some breathing exercises that will help make labor easier, when the time comes. The rest of the hour flies by, and before I know it, the hour is over. “Do you want to come talk to him during lunch?” I ask Clint as we get dressed. He nods.

“It’s worth a shot. He seems like he genuinely cares, and if my stepfather is convicted of child abuse, we’ll need adults on our side for the trial.”

“If that happens, where will you live?”

“I guess I’ll be put back into the foster system.” I can hear the defeat in his voice, and I pull him in for a hug. The bell rings, and we are forced to separate and go to our respective classes.

The remaining hours before lunch seem to drag by. I am nervous to meet with Coulson, but I can tell that he genuinely wants to help. Finally, it is time. Clint and I grab our trays of food and head to Coulson’s office. He is inside it when we get there. Tentatively, I raise my hand and knock on the door. “Come on in.” Clint and I exchange a look before cautiously entering. “Okay, before we start talking, I’d like to ask you to be completely honest with me. Can you do that?” We both nod. “Good. You two may not know this, but I have fostered several kids in the past. Many of them came from troubled backgrounds. I’ve learned to recognize the look of kids who have had traumatic pasts, and you both have that look. Your files don’t have a lot of information, and I’d really appreciate it if you could fill in the gaps.” He turns to me. “Can you start with what happened this summer?”

Before I know what is happening, the words flood out of me. Coulson listens in careful silence as I relay what happened that brought me to the situation that I’m in today. When I finish, he turns to Clint. Like me, Clint breaks down and opens up, glad to finally have a caring adult listening to him. When he finishes, Coulson sits in silence for a few minutes. “You have a strong case for child abuse. The fact that he ended up shooting you is enough to put him in jail for a long time, but in order for that to happen, you’ll need to testify.” Clint stiffens at the thought.

“Where will I live if he’s put away? I can’t live alone, since I’m underage. They’ll put me in the foster system, like they did with Natasha. Neither of us can last another five years while we wait to age out of the system. Nobody wants to adopt teenagers, especially not mated teenagers with a baby on the way,” Clint spits out bitterly. Coulson looks thoughtful for a second.

“Now, that’s not necessarily true,” he muses. Clint and I exchange a look, wondering where this conversation is going. It is almost time for lunch to be over, but neither of us want to leave.

“What do you mean? We’ve been in the foster system before. We had a hard enough time being adopted when we were younger. Now that we’re teenagers, nobody will want to adopt one of us, let alone both of us. They’ll try to break our bond, and I won’t survive that. I know I won’t,” I whimper, the thought of Clint and I being forced to separate enough to trigger a panic attack. I struggle to draw in a breath, and Clint gently rubs my back.

“Shh, you’re okay. I promise, I won’t let us be separated. There’s got to be some way to make sure that we stay together.” Coulson nods, agreeing with me.

“Yes, there is a way,” he says, seeming lost in thought. My heart leaps, but I force the feeling down. I don’t dare to hope that Coulson is saying what I think he is saying. However, I can see the glimmer of hope forming in Clint’s eyes.

“Does that mean what I think it means?” Coulson nods, a smile lighting up his face.

“That’s it! I’ll foster you two!” The bell rings as I launch myself at Coulson, pulling him into a hug. For the first time in a while, I allow myself to hope for a brighter future.

Chapter Text

Chapter Thirty Six

December 24th

Natasha’s P.o.V:

The past month and a half passed in a blur of court trials and relocations. Clint’s stepfather was tried and convicted of child abuse, and Clint joined me in the foster care system until Coulson was approved to take care of us. After a few weeks, we moved in with Coulson while the adoption papers were being finalized. Camille’s house was sold, and the money was deposited in a savings account for me. Mr. Richards’ death was finally revealed, but Clint and I were not charged, mostly since my neighbor came forward and testified. The cell phone video, along with her testimony, absolved us of all blame. Since my appointed guardian was deceased, Coulson became my legal guardian. Since then, life has begun to look up.

I have successfully made it through the second trimester of my pregnancy. Coulson is really helpful with everything, and is knowledgeable about pregnancy in general. He’s taught me more in the past few weeks than I learned in the first five months of my pregnancy.

Clint and I were each given our own rooms, although Coulson gave us permission to sleep in the same bed if we wished, something that we both were grateful for. Even being across the hallway seems like too far of a distance to be away from my mate. Clint and I have been strengthening our Mating Bond, and now, we can easily feel each other’s emotions across it.

With all of the commotion of the past few months, Clint and I both decided that it was unfair to Rick and Linda for us to keep missing work, so we both quit. They were very understanding, and told us that the jobs would still be there for us if we wanted them after everything settled down. However, Coulson advised us from returning for a while, telling me that it would become extremely hard to keep working in a few weeks. Reluctantly, Clint and I both agreed not to return to work.

Coulson gives us an allowance in exchange for good grades and help with chores around the house. I’ve been saving my money, and now, I have enough to buy Clint a nice Christmas present. I know that he enjoys archery, and I know that his bow is not as good as he deserves. Coulson agreed to take me to a sporting goods store to look into getting Clint a new bow and arrow. It takes a while to find the perfect bow, but at last, I find it. Thankfully, I have enough money to buy it. Coulson helps me wrap it when I get home, and my heart swells with joy. I can’t wait for tomorrow to come.

It is hard to sleep, but somehow, I manage to close my eyes and drift into slumber, curled against Clint’s body.

When I wake up in the morning, a quick glance shows that it isn’t even 8:00 yet, but Clint is already gone. I crawl out of bed and wrap up in a blanket before leaving the room and searching for Clint. I find him in the living room with Coulson. They are waiting next to the Christmas tree, and underneath it, there is a pile of presents. My eyes well up with tears as I walk into the room and get settled down next to Clint. He gives me a quick kiss on the lips. “Merry Christmas, Nat.”

“Merry Christmas, Clint.” Together, we turn towards Coulson.

“Merry Christmas, Coulson!” We chorus together. Coulson pulls us into a hug.

“Merry Christmas, you two. Are you ready to open your presents?” We both nod excitedly, and he begins to distribute the wrapped packages. When he is finished, I point to my gift to Clint.

“Open that one last, okay?” Clint nods, and points to one of my presents.

“Only if you promise to open that one last,” he smiles. I agree, and we begin opening our presents. Coulson has provided us with various baby supplies. I am extremely grateful, since Camille was only able to buy a few items before her untimely demise. Clint and I both received some new clothes as well. At last, only our gifts to each other are left. Clint goes first, unwrapping his gift with unrestrained glee. When it is revealed, he is speechless for a moment, before pulling me into a tight hug. “Thank you so much! I’ve missed practicing my aim so much in the past few months.” I grin. “Okay, open yours, now!”

Eagerly, I rip the paper off. Slowly, canvas and paints begin to come into view. Emotion fills my throat, making it hard to swallow. “I’ve never mentioned that I like to paint. How’d you know?” Clint blushes a little.

“I always watched you when we were working, and I noticed how you always lingered by the paints. I take it you like them?” I nod, unable to speak. Coulson watches the scene, getting a little misty eyed.

“It’s been awhile since I’ve seen two mates that were so in love,” he admits. Clint and I exchange a look, and Clint pulls out a package from behind the tree and hands it to Coulson. Coulson’s eyes widen a little. “You two didn’t need to get me anything,” he protests.

“We wanted to. It’s the least that we could do, after everything that you’ve done for us.” Coulson takes the gift and slowly begins to remove the paper. Soon, a cardboard box comes into view.

“You guys got me Tupperware?” Clint and I exchange a look and laugh.

“Yeah. We knew that you already had some, but you can never have enough, right?” Coulson looks confused.

“Just open it,” I urge him. Coulson laughs and pulls open the flaps of the box.

“Where did you find this? How did you know that I liked him?” he asks, carefully removing the comic books from the box. “Captain America is my favorite!” Inside the box is a replica of Captain America’s shield.

“There’s a little shop in town that sells comics books and such. We noticed that you had some trading cards and comic books already, and we wanted to get you something special. Do you like it?” Coulson nods, unable to speak for a moment.

“Thank you two so much.” Clint and I pull him into another hug.

“Merry Christmas, Dad,” I whisper against Coulson’s chest.

“Merry Christmas, Tasha,” Coulson responds, giving me a gently squeeze.

“And God bless us, every one!” Clint chimes in, breaking the mood. I slap him gently, and we dissolve into a fit of giggles. Happiness floods through me, and I can’t wait to see what the future holds for us.

Chapter Text

BlackHawk's Child: I'm glad you liked it. I've been trying to write fluffier chapters now, since I usually do angst. Thanks for the review!

I'm so sorry for not updating sooner. School has been crazy, and I haven't had a lot of time to write. I hope you guys haven't abandoned me. Anyways, here's a fluffy chapter, so enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own MARVEL or any of their affiliates. I am not making any money by writing this. It is for entertainment purposes only.

Chapter Thirty Seven

December 25th

Natasha's P. o. V:

Coulson, Clint and I clean up the wrapping paper, before settling in on the couch to watch Christmas movies. The smell of baking cookies comes wafting out of the kitchen, making my stomach rumble. I laugh and place my hand on my stomach. My daughter chooses that time to kick, and I quickly grab Clint's hand and place it on my belly. "Talk to her. She likes it when you talk to her." Clint chuckles, but complies.

"Hey, pumpkin. Your momma wanted me to talk to you, so here we are. I can't wait to meet you." Sure enough, a strong kick meets Clint's hand. Coulson watches with wonder in his eyes.

"Can I?" he asks hesitantly, hopefully reaching his hand out. I nod immediately.

"You don't have to ask, after all you've done for us." Coulson smiles, gently placing his hand against the swell of my belly. "Talk to her, if you want," I encourage him. Coulson takes a deep breath, before beginning to speak.

"Hi, little one. You have an amazing mother and father. You're going to be so well-cared for. I'm excited to finally meet you." My daughter decides to twist, making the skin of my belly ripple. Coulson smiles, his eyes wide with emotion. "It's been a while since I've felt an unborn baby moving," he admits. "It's a feeling that you never really forget, but it will never cease to amaze me." The oven timer goes off, and Coulson reluctantly pulls himself away from me.

Clint cuddles up next to me. "What did we do to get so lucky?" I shrug, burrowing into his side. The smell of fresh-baked cookies wafts into the room, and my stomach grumbles again. "Want to go get some food?" I nod, and Clint helps me to my feet. Together, we walk into the kitchen.

Coulson is standing by the counter, wearing an apron. Spread out around him are bowls filled with colored icing. The cookies are cooling on wire racks, and Coulson is humming while he works, currently unaware of our presence. I clear my throat, and Coulson turns around. He has a splattering of icing on his cheek, and I bust out laughing. Clint sees it too, and we dissolve into giggles. Coulson looks confused, before wiping the icing off of his cheek. "Tell you what. If you help me ice the cookies, I'll let you guys choose whatever you want for dinner. How does that sound?"

"That sounds amazing!" I smile, my inner artist jumping for joy. My hunger is quickly forgotten. Clint and I quickly set up a decorating station while Coulson finishes making the icing. By the time he finishes, the cookies are cool enough to ice.

Clint and I set to work immediately, competing to see who can create the coolest gingerbread man. Coulson is our judge. By the time the cookies are finished, we are tied. "So, who wins?" Clint asks, his competitive streak appearing. Coulson laughs.

"I do, for having the chance to be your caretaker." I groan at the cheesiness, but pull him in for a hug. "Seriously, though, I'm not sure who won. You both are talented decorators. Maybe we should sign you up for one of those Food Network shows," he jokes. I snort.

"Yeah, I'll get right on that." Just then, my stomach growls, louder than before. My cheeks burn, but Coulson laughs.

"Help yourself to some of those cookies that you worked so hard on. I'll start making breakfast." I select a cookie and begin nibbling on it. Coulson begins making omelettes. Clint turns the radio on, and the sound of Christmas music filters through the speakers. Clint begins dancing around the kitchen, singing along to the songs. I laugh and join him. We whirl around the kitchen, being careful not to bump into Coulson. At last, the food is ready. We all sit down at the table and begin eating. "So, do you have any plans with your friends for Christmas?" I shrug.

"I don't know. I'm sure Tony will do something." We continue eating, with only the radio to break the silence. Soon, we finish eating. Clint and I help Coulson with the dishes, before going back to our rooms to change. I check my phone, and sure enough, there is a text from Tony. I quickly open it and read it.

"Party at my place today. Come over when you can. Don't worry about presents. I've got us covered." I quickly tap out a reply and turn to Clint.

"Should we go ask Coulson if we can go?" Clint nods.

"I feel a little guilty leaving him alone, especially after all that he's done for us." Suddenly, a voice sounds from the doorway.

"If you guys want to go, please don't let me keep you from it. I'll be fine. Go. Have fun," Coulson smiles. I jump up and give him a hug.

"Thank you so much!" I begin packing a bag. Clint is quick to follow my example. Coulson disappears, only to reappear a few minutes later with a container of cookies.

"After you guys worked so hard on these, j think you should take them and show them off." We both thank Coulson and finish our packing. Soon, we are ready to go. As we walk out the door, Coulson calls out to us. "Have fun, kids, and merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas, dad!" we chorus back. Coulson waves, and we begin our journey to Tony's. Thankfully, the sidewalks are plowed, and it is not too cold. The journey takes slightly longer than usual, but the walk is peaceful. Tony is waiting for us when we get there.

"Come on in, you two lovebirds! Bruce is already here. We're still waiting on Steve, Thor, and Loki, but they should be here soon." Clint and I enter the house, only to be astounded by the amount of decorations.

Everything is decorated with twinkling Christmas lights, and there is an enormous Christmas tree in the foyer. Underneath it, there is a multitude of presents. "There's hot chocolate and cookies in the kitchen, movies in the den, and games in the living room. Bruce and I were playing Jenga in the living room when Jarvis told us that you were coming. We can play a different game if you like." Clint and I nod and follow Tony into the living room.

There is a roaring fire in the fire place, making the room nice and cozy. There are several stacks of board games on the floor, and in the middle of the stacks, there is a Jenga tower. How it is still standing, I'm unsure, but judging by the concentrated look on Bruce's face, it's not easy to keep it that way. He carefully removes a block, and the tower begins to sway. A panicked look washes over his face as the tower topples over. "I win!" Tony exclaims. Bruce shrugs.

"You're the engineer, not me." Tony nods.

"That's true." Suddenly, Jarvis' voice breaks in.

"Masters Steve, Thor, and Loki have arrived." We all jump up and run to the door, eager to greet our friends. As soon as they walk in, Tony lights up.

"Now that everyone is here, the games can begin!"

What could Tony possibly be planning? Leave a review with your thoughts :)

Chapter Text

Chapter Thirty Eight

December 25th

Natasha's P. o. V:

"Games? What games?"

"Christmas games, of course, styled after the popular game show Minute to Win It!" Tony exclaims gleefully. "Before you all groan, there's prizes!" We all visibly perk up at this. "If you'll follow me, I have a room set up for our games." We all follow behind Tony, eager to see what kind of games he has planned. When we enter the room, we see all sorts of Christmas decorations, rolls of streamers, and other boxes of things.

"When did you have time to put all of this together?" I ask incredulously.

"I've slowly been piling stuff together for a while. This is the first time I've really spent Christmas with someone besides myself," Tony admits. I go over and give him a hug, willing myself not to cry.

"You have us now, and you're not going to get rid of us that easily." Tony laughs a little, before gesturing to the supplies.

"Okay, sappy moments aside, it's time to begin. First things first, everyone split up into groups of two. One of you will have to share a partner, since we have seven people." I immediately pair up with Clint. Bruce and Tony pair up, as do Loki and Thor. Steve joins Clint and I. Tony turns to our group of three. "For the team challenges, Steve, you can choose either Clint or Natasha as a partner. Not all challenges will be team challenges. I will explain the rules for each game as we go. Any questions?" We all shake our heads. "Okay, the first game is called Face the Gingerbread Man."

"Does that means that we'll get food?" Thor asks excitedly. Tony nods.

"In this game, you each sit in the chair with your head tilted back. A gingerbread man is placed on your forward. Using only your facial muscles, you must bring it down to your mouth. After you catch it, the time stops. The person with the fastest time gets points. Points will be tallied at the end to determine the order that you get to pick your prizes. All prizes will be wrapped, so choose wisely."

We all talk amongst ourselves before deciding what order to go in. Thor, eager for food, decides to go first. After the cookie is placed on his head, he immediately starts contorting his face, trying to get the gingerbread man into his mouth. However, he contorts his face too much, and the cookie drops to the floor. Tony quickly replaces it, and Thor tries again. It takes four more tries, but finally, Thor gets the cookie in his mouth, with less than a minute to spare.

I go next. Thanks to watching Thor, I know to use smaller movements. Within 15 seconds, I have the cookie in my mouth. Tony congratulates me, and Loki takes my place. All of our friends have a turn, with varying degrees of success. Loki ends up winning, with a time of 11 seconds. "Okay, it's time to move onto the next game. This one is called Jingle In the Trunk." Tony produces a box with a hole cut in the top. Inside, there are jingle bells. Tony quickly explains the rules, and we set to work. The box is strapped around our waist, and by shaking our hips and jumping, we have to empty the box.

Tony is the fastest at this game, leading us to tease him about his stripper-like moves. Tony laughs. "You're all just jealous."

The next game is a team game. Each team has to transport an ornament from one line of string to another using only their lips. Clint and I win this one, which Tony claims is unfair. "You guys have had practice with kissing before!" he argues, but it is halfhearted.

The next game involves the use of Vaseline and large red Pom-Poms. "Okay, you guys, this is called "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. Using only Vaseline and your noses, you must pick up a red Pom-Pom. The person that does it fastest wins."

Bruce goes first, not hesitating to slather on the Vaseline. Just as he is ready to begin, Tony stops him. "You wouldn't be a reindeer without these," Tony teases, holding up a pair of reindeer antlers. Bruce sighs, but puts the antlers on anyways. Tony counts him off, and Bruce starts right away. It immediately becomes apparent that it is not as easy as it first appeared. The Pom-Pom rolls off of the table, and Bruce dives after it, knocking his antlers askew. When he finally resurfaces, the Pom-Pom is stuck to his nose, and his antlers are hanging half off of his head. Tony stops the timer with less than half a second left. "Just in the knick of time!"

The rest of us try our best, but this game is difficult. Bruce ends up winning, since the rest of us run out of time. The next game is a team game. Since Clint and I have already won, one of us will sit out. Steve chooses me to be his partner. "This game requires you to turn your partner into a snowman in under a minute. We will all vote for the best two snowmen. You cannot vote for yourself. Go!" I sit down with my legs folded, and Steve begins wrapping me with white streamers. My baby bump provides a good middle of the snowman. Steve throws a hat on my head and a scarf around my neck as time runs out. Our partners go around and observe the different snowmen. Afterwards, they vote. Steve and I win, with Thor coming in second.

Our points are tallied up, and it is decided that I get to choose first. I choose a medium sized box, then watch as everyone else chooses. At Tony's word, we all tear into our gifts. I get a joke book, Clint gets a tin of cookies, Thor gets a fruitcake, Bruce gets a stress ball, Loki gets a stuffed dog with a Christmas hat, Tony gets an action figure, and Steve gets a pair of elf ears. We all laugh at our gifts, before settling in front of the fire with cookies and cider. A wave of contentment washes over me, and I settle into Clint's side. "Merry Christmas, everyone!" Tony says. I smile to myself. Merry Christmas indeed.

Chapter Text

Chapter Thirty Nine

December 31st

Natasha's P. o. V:

The time between Christmas and New Year's Eve passes too quickly. The break from school is nice, but being able to have some alone time with my mate is even nicer. Coulson has been really supportive, and has been working with us on breathing exercises to help me through labor. I thank God every day that Coulson made his way into Clint and I's lives.

Clint and I decided to stay home for New Year's Eve to be with Coulson. It is 11:30, only a half hour from the beginning of a new year. Coulson bought some sparkling grape juice to toast with when the ball drops. We're all gathered around the television, watching the festivities. Several musical artists perform, but I am only half listening. I am laying down, my head resting in Clint's lap. My hand absently strokes my belly, feeling my daughter roll around. Clint reaches his hand down and covers mine with his.

"Just four more months, huh?" Clint murmurs against my hair.

"Yup. It's hard to believe. If someone would have told me that I'd be pregnant at thirteen, and that the baby's father would be killed by my boyfriend, I would have called them crazy. What is life coming to?" Clint rubs his thumb against my hand soothingly, chuckling slightly.

"We're quite the messed-up pair, aren't we?" I laugh, and Coulson joins in.

"That's what makes you two unique. Just think, if circumstances would have been different, you two likely would have never become mates." I consider Coulson's words for a moment.

"You know, you're right. I wouldn't have it any other way," I smile. Clint leans down and kisses me. The announcers on the television inform us that there are only ten minutes left of the year. Coulson goes out the kitchen and comes back with a bottle of sparkling grape juice and three wine glasses.

"We're going to start the new year with some class!" Coulson jokes, holding up the stemware. He sets the glasses down and begins pouring the liquid into them. The smell of grapes fills the room, and my mouth waters. As I move to sit up, my lower stomach tightens. It is uncomfortable, but not outright painful. I attribute the discomfort to laying on the floor for too long. Sure enough, then sensation goes away momentarily. Coulson passes around the glasses, and we perch around the television, ready to watch the ball drop. There's only five minutes left until midnight. Clint comes and sits next to me, putting his arm around my shoulders.

"So, this is it, huh? Time to put the old year behind us and start a new one. We're essentially starting a new chapter of our lives." I nod, snuggling up against him. The smell of my mate surrounds me, comforting me. The television screen displays the New Year's ball. Coulson passes around noisemakers. I place mine in my mouth, watching the countdown. There is less than a minute left. Coulson, Clint, and I all stand up, preparing for the New Year.

"Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one, Happy New Year!" we all say in unison, raising our glasses in a toast and blowing our noisemakers. Clint gives me a kiss, and we both turn and hug Coulson. My stomach tightens again, but I ignore it. Clint turns to me.

"Natasha, I want to start this year off on a good note. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, and the day that you agreed to be my mate was the happiest day of my life. Would you make me even happier and become my wife?" Clint asks, dropping to one knee. I gasp, hand flying up to my mouth.

"Yes, Clint! I love you so much." Coulson watches our exchange with tears in his eyes.

"I'm sorry, but I don't have a ring yet." I shake my head, tears forming in my eyes.

"You don't need a ring. Ever since I first met you, I've been yours. Oh, Clint!" I collapse against his chest, sobbing. Clint rubs my back gently.

"I hope those are happy tears," Clint says, only half joking. I nod against his chest, crying harder.

"I'm so happy, but I can't stop crying." Coulson laughs, pulling Clint and I into a hug.

"I'm so glad that I had the good fortune of adopting you three," Coulson says. I squeeze him, but stop when my stomach tightens again, more painfully this time. Coulson watches me with concern. "Are you okay?" I nod.

"I just feel like a muscle is spasming in my stomach. I must have slept wrong. I'll be fine."

"If it keeps up, let me know. Early labor isn't uncommon in mothers, especially in mothers as young as yourself." I frown, but promise. My phone buzzing in my pocket snaps me out of my worries. All of my friends and wishing me a happy new year. I smile as I respond back to them. I am tempted to tell them that I am now engaged to Clint, but I want to see their reactions in person.

"Clint?"

"Yeah, Nat?"

"What should we call our daughter?"

"I've been thinking about that. If you don't mind, I have some suggestions." I nod, encouraging him to go on. "You're due in April, right?" I nod. "That's a possibility. I also liked Ruby, but there's no guarantee that she would have your hair color. I also liked Alex and Charlotte, Charlie for short. Do you like any of them?"

I nod. "All of the names are cute. I personally didn't have any ideas in mind, so you've given me something to consider. Thank you," I smile, giving Clint a kiss. A yawn overtakes me, and I begin saying my good nights. Clint and I retire to our bedroom, and I curl up against him, letting his body heat warm me.

A few hours later, I wake up, my stomach muscles contracting. Coulson's words about early labor run through my head again. I'm only five months along. If the baby is coming now, there's only a slight chance that she'll make it. Panic threatens to overcome me, but I push it down, taking deep breaths to calm myself. Panicking will help nothing. Besides, the chances of me actually being in labor are pretty slim. However, my stomach continues to cramp up periodically, so I slip out of bed as quietly as possible, so as not to wake Clint.

I walk to Coulson's room, fear coiling in the pit of my stomach. Gently, I shake Coulson awake. "Are you okay, Nat? What's going on?" Coulson asks, immediately alert. I wince as a spasm goes through my stomach again.

"I think I'm having contractions."

Chapter Text

Chapter Forty

January 1st

Natasha's P. o. V:

Coulson sits up immediately. "Sit down. How long has his been going on?" I sit down, fear still running through my body.

"It's been going on since shortly before midnight." My hand drops to my belly, feeling my daughter moving around inside.

"What do these contractions feel like? Are they regular?" I consider his questions for a moment before answering.

"It's weird. It's not painful. It just feels like there's pressure in my pelvis, but it doesn't last long. It seems like they come on randomly." Coulson's face suddenly breaks into a grin.

"Your water hasn't broken and you haven't noticed any unusual discharge, have you?" I shake my head, and Coulson lets out a sigh of relief. "Thank God. Natasha, have you heard of Braxton-Hicks contractions?" I shake my head. "They're essentially a practice run for labor. Your uterus is contracting, but you aren't going into labor. You're fine. Your baby is going to be fine." Thankful tears stream down my cheeks. Suddenly, Clint comes into the room. He sees the tears on my cheeks and comes sprinting over.

"Nat, are you okay? Is our baby okay? What happened? Why are you crying?" I throw myself into his arms, fresh tears streaking down my cheeks.

"I'm fine, Clint, and so is our baby. It's just false labor. Everything is okay, I promise." Clint pulls me in tight, pressing kisses to my skin.

"I was so scared. I woke up and you weren't beside me. Coulson's words about early labor ran through my head, and I thought..." Clint trails off. "Nat, please don't do that to me again. Wake me up first, please," he pleads, raw fear shining in his eyes. I can feel his fear coming over our bond, and I try to send comforting thoughts over to him. Clint squeezes me one more time, and I nuzzle into his neck.

"I suggest you two go back to bed and go back to sleep. You're both probably exhausted, and Lord knows that you won't be getting much sleep once the little one gets here."

"Thank you, Coulson. I don't know what I would do without you," I say, pulling Coulson in for a tight hug. He hugs me back, reaching out to give Clint a hug as well.

"You two are such great mates. I have to admit, I've never seen anything like it before, even among mates that have been together for several years. What you two have is special." Both Clint and I give Coulson one last hug before leaving his room and heading back to our own. Clint helps me back to bed, before crawling in next to me. His arm wraps around my body, pulling me close.

"Love you, Nat. Sweet dreams."

"Sweet dreams," I mumble back, already drifting off to sleep.

When Clint and I wake up in the morning, it is already after 10:00. I can hear Coulson in the kitchen, and the smell of omelettes wafts through the air. My stomach grumbles in response, and Clint chuckles. "What baby wants, baby gets." I nod in response, and we both crawl out of bed and head to the kitchen.

"How are you this morning? Any cramps?" Coulson asks as we walk in. I shake my head, stretching. Coulson flips an omelette out of the pan and onto a plate. I take it and dig in, burning my mouth on the first try. Clint laughs as I rub my burnt lip. Within a few minutes, Coulson has another omelette ready. Clint takes it and unthinkingly takes a bite, burning his mouth. I laugh so hard that I almost choke on my food.

"That's karma for you," I giggle. Clint jokingly glares at me, before breaking down and laughing.

"I guess I got what I deserved." I nod with mock seriousness and continue eating. Coulson makes himself an omelette and joins us at the table. We eat in a peaceable silence. My phone buzzes with a text from Tony.

"Want to go ice skating?" I turn to Clint and Coulson.

"Tony asked if we want to go ice skating." Coulson considers me.

"If you want to go, you can. Just be extremely careful, and make sure that you fall on your butt, not your belly. If you guys want, I can give you a ride to the rink. It's been forever since I've gone ice skating."

"Thank you so much!" I exclaim, jumping up and giving Coulson a hug. "You're the best." Coulson chuckles.

"Now, now, you're just saying that." I shake my head.

"No, I really mean it." Coulson pulls me in for a quick squeeze, before releasing me.

"Come on, we've got to get this cleaned up, and then we can go. I'll bring the van, because I assume that all of your friends are going." I nod and begin clearing the table after typing out a reply to Tony.

"Can't wait. Coulson will drive us all to the rink." With all three of us working in the kitchen, the mess is soon cleaned up, and we all don our winter clothes. Clint and I climb into the backseat, and Coulson starts the engine. Within minutes, we have arrived at Tony's house, where the rest of our friends are waiting. They all pile into the car, and we are on our way.

As the entrance to the rink comes into my vision, excitement curls in my belly. It's been forever since I've gone ice skating. We all clamber out of the car and make our way to the counter to rent skates. A few minutes later, our group makes its way to the ice. Tony pushes his way to the front, eager to show off his ice skating prowess. However, as soon as he sets one skate onto the ice, his foot slips out from under him, and he falls on his butt. Slowly, he stands up, rubbing his rear end. Nothing seems to be seriously hurt, other than his pride.

Bruce follows behind Tony, surprisingly graceful for someone of his size. I take a deep breath and follow behind Bruce. I almost fall, but I manage to catch myself at the last second. Clint comes up behind me and helps me to steady myself. "You okay?" He asks. I nod, and we begin to slowly skate around the rink. Steve flies past us, before flipping around and skating backwards. "Show off," I mumble, but there is no heat to my words. "Clint, I want to try and skate backwards. I used to know how, but it's been a while." Clint offers me his hands to steady myself, and I flip around. The skill comes back to me easily, and soon, I am skating backwards without Clint's help. Coulson comes up beside us.

"Having fun?" I nod breathlessly. Coulson laughs and speeds off to catch up with Thor, who has fallen several times. Loki is trying to teach Thor how to skate, but Thor is too clumsy. Clint and I skate past him, being careful that he doesn't take us down with him. Coulson takes over for Loki so that Loki can go skate by himself. He is graceful, and the movements seem to come naturally to him.

Time goes by too quickly, and before long, it is time for us to go home. Both of my ankles have large blisters, but I do not mind. Spending time with my friends and mate while doing something that I love dulls the pain. If only every day could be like today. My head drifts against Clint's shoulder, and within minutes, I am sound asleep, exhausted from the events of the day.

Chapter Text

Chapter Forty One

January 1st

Natasha's P. o. V:

Clint and I retire to our bedroom after we get home from ice skating. Clint showers first, and I relax on the bed, dreading facing the water with my blisters. Too soon, Clint exits the bathroom and comes over to me. "Your turn, he whispers, nuzzling his face against my neck. I laugh as it tickles, before heaving myself off of the bed. My legs are stiff and sore from being in the same position for so long. With Clint's help, I make it to the bathroom, before deciding at the last minute to take a bath instead of a shower. As I wait for the bath to fill, I begin adding bubble bath and bath salts that Coulson has approved for pregnancy. When the water is sufficiently high, I turn the tap off and climb into the tub.

The warm water stings my blisters as I step in, but the pain quickly subsides. My body sinks into the water, the warmth relaxing my tense muscles. Clint peeks his head inside to make sure that I'm okay. "If you need me, just give me a call. I'll be right outside." I nod, and Clint closes the door. My head drifts down to rest against the back of the tub, and my eyes flutter closed.

I am in a dark room. The acrid stench of rot and decay fills my nose. Underneath, there is a familiar smell, but it is not one that I can place. Footsteps echo around me, but the person that they belong to remains out of my field of vision. I cannot move. Above my head, there is a large light, although it is not turned on. The surface underneath my bare back is frigid and unforgiving. Suddenly, laughter fills the room, sending chills down my spine. Desperately, I try to free myself from my restraints, but it is no use. I am strapped to an operating table. The footsteps approach, and my tormentor makes themselves known. "Thought you could get away from me, huh? Thought you'd be safe with me in jail? Think again, you little slut. I'm going to make you and the little bastard growing inside of you pay," he growls. I struggle weakly, a whimper rising in my throat.

"Austin, no. Please, no. You can't do this. Please," I beg, tears coursing down my cheeks. Austin chuckles evilly, holding up a scalpel.

"Oh, but I can. What's more is that I'm going to enjoy it." A scream rises in my throat as he gets ready to slice through my skin.

"Natasha!" Someone is shaking me. My eyes fly open, and I immediately recognize Clint. The scent of my mate helps to calm me, but scared tears still run down my cheeks. "Shh, honey, it's okay. It was just a nightmare. I'm right here. It's okay." Clint continues talking to me, gently rubbing my back. I hear whimpering and realize that it's coming from me. Suddenly, there's a knock on the bathroom door.

"Is everything alright? Can I come in?" I shoot Clint a wild look, fear coursing through my body. What if it's him? He'll hurt my baby. Clint sees my reaction and hugs me closer.

"Just a nightmare. Give us a minute, please," Clint requests. I hear the footsteps walk away, and my body relaxes slightly. Clint strokes my hair gently, whispering words into my ear. Slowly, the tension begins to leave my body. The water has grown cold around me, and my skin has turned wrinkly. Clint helps me stand up and get out of the tub. As soon as I am stable, I throw myself into his arms, not caring that my wet body is soaking his clothes.

"Clint, he was going to hurt us," I cry, hand dropping protectively to my stomach. My daughter kicks against my hand, almost as if to reassure me that she's still okay.

"Who was going to hurt you, Nat?"

"Austin." Another son forces its way out of my body, making my shoulders shake. Clint reaches over and grabs me one of his shirts, which I tug on quickly. Clint's scent surrounds me, comforting me. At last, the tears stop falling and I manage to control my breathing. I quickly locate and put on my underwear and pajama bottoms. Clint hands me a tissue, and I mop my face before blowing my nose.

"Austin isn't ever going to bother you again, okay? I promise I'll protect you. No one will ever touch you again unless you want them to," Clint vows. There is a knock on the bedroom door, and Coulson's voice seeps into the room.

"Nat, sweetheart, are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Just a bad dream," I manage to call out, my voice shaking slightly.

"I have some tea, if you want. It might help to calm you down enough to get some restful sleep." I walk over to the door and open it. Coulson is on the other side, holding two cups of a steaming tea.

"I thought that caffeine was bad for the baby?"

"It is, but this isn't standard tea. It's made with red raspberry leaf, and it's considered to be safe to consume during pregnancy. I've always found that tea helps me to calm down," Coulson explains, offering me one of the cups. I accept it gratefully and go to sit on the bed. Coulson hands the other cup to Clint, before getting ready to leave.

"Could you please stay?" I ask, hating how plaintive my voice sounds. Coulson nods quickly.

"Of course, sweetheart. Anything for you." Coulson takes a seat on the bed next to me. Clint goes into the bathroom and returns with bandaids and Neosporin for my blisters. Gently, he bandages me up before taking a seat next to me. I lean up against him, sipping on my tea. Soon, drowsiness begins to overtake me. Coulson strokes my hair and rubs my back, while Clint allows me to lay in his lap. Contentment fills me, helping to wash away the terror from the nightmare. Sleep laps at my consciousness, and I snuggle up against Clint.

"Thank you both, for everything. You two are the best," I mumble, words slightly slurred. Coulson chuckles and Clint gives me a kiss.

"Only the best for you, Tasha. Only the best."

Chapter Text

Chapter Forty Two

Natasha’s P.o.V:

April 1st

The past few months of my pregnancy have been difficult. My belly makes it hard to maneuver, and my back is sore all the time. My ankles have started to resemble beach balls, and standing for more than five minutes is difficult. Coulson excused me from gym and put me on bedrest from the time I got home from school to the time I woke up the next day. Clint has stuck with me through it all, tolerating all of my complaints and wild mood swings. My due date is rapidly approaching, and the beginnings of fear have begun swirling around my belly. It took a while for Clint and I to agree on a name, but we both liked Alex, and the name stuck.

Alex decides that the best part of the day to move around is in history, where Ms. Hill will not let me go to the bathroom. Alex uses my bladder as a trampoline, and soon, the urge to use the bathroom strikes. I cross my legs tightly, willing the feeling to pass. Unfortunately, the feeling only gets worse. I raise my hand, and Ms. Hill looks at me before turning away. Desperate, I approach her desk. “May I please use the restroom? It’s an emergency.” Ms. Hill shakes her head.

“You should have gone before class. Take a seat, or I will be forced to give you detention.” I resist the urge to glare at her.

“If you don’t let me go right now, I am going to pee all over this floor,” I growl, urgency apparent in my voice.

“Go. Sit. Down,” Ms. Hill snaps. Alex bounces on my bladder, and I make a beeline for the door.

“Natasha Romanoff, if you set one foot out of that door, I promise that I will give you detention.”

“So be it,” I call over my shoulder, waddling as quickly as I can towards the bathroom. I barely manage to drop my pants and underwear before a particularly vicious nudge to my bladder causes it to empty. I sigh in relief as the pressure slowly fades. In the back of my mind, I worry about the detention, before disregarding it entirely. Detention just means that I don’t have to go to a class. Things could be worse. Leisurely, I finish using the bathroom and wash my hands. There is no reason for me to hurry. I’m already going to be punished.

Clint is waiting for me when I return to history. He shoots me a sympathetic smile before turning to the whiteboard. While I was gone, he worked on filling in my notes for me, something that I am immensely grateful of. Ms. Hill calls on me as soon as I get back to my seat, but thanks to Clint, I am able to answer her question correctly. She looks moderately annoyed and I grin.

At last, history is over. I make my way to math, moving as quickly as I’m able. My breath comes in short gasps, and I force myself to slow down. I make it through the classroom door just as the bell rings, but thankfully, I am not tardy. The Lord knows that I don’t need any more detentions. Math is fairly uneventful, other than a few spasms in my back. They aren’t outrightly painful, so I ignore them. However, as time progresses, I notice that the spasms are getting more powerful and painful. My blood runs cold as I realize what’s happening: I’m going into labor. I control my breathing carefully, determined not to make a scene. This is my first child. Labor will be a long ordeal, and I may as well not start panicking this early in the process.

Math is over quickly, mostly because of my total concentration on breathing. My feet carry me towards the science room when a somewhat painful contraction hits me. Changing my mind, I head towards Mrs. Rogers’ office. Clint passes me in the hall, looking concerned. I wave him away, determined not to let him get in trouble because of me. He continues onwards towards class, albeit looking concerned.

My fist raises and my knuckles rap against Mrs. Rogers’ door. She pops her head out immediately. “Natasha, dear, are you okay?” I nod, wincing slightly as a contraction ripples through my belly. “Where does it hurt?” Mrs. Rogers asks, switching into professional mode. I gesture to my lower back and belly.

“It doesn’t hurt too badly yet, but it’s uncomfortable,” I answer, fists clenching. Mrs. Rogers ushers me over to the cot.

“Just lay down and try to get comfortable. How far apart are your contractions?”

“They’re around eight or nine minutes apart. They’ve started to speed up and become more intense.”

“Approximately when did your contractions start?”

“During math, so about two hours ago. I’ve still got a long way to go,” I moan. Mrs. Rogers chuckles.

“Sorry to tell you, but yes, you do, honey. You still have a couple more hours before you transition into active labor. For now, the best thing that you can do is relax. If you want, I’ll walk to your locker with you so that you can get your backpack, schoolwork, and phone.” I nod.

“I’d like that. Thank you.”

“If you feel up to it, you can work on homework so that you’re not too far behind when you come back. Text Clint and ask him to find out what you’re going to be doing for the rest of the week. Spring break is next week, so you’ll have some time to recover before coming back.”

“Thank God for that,” I smile, massaging my belly. I don’t even want to imagine how painful active labor is going to be. With nothing else to do, I take out my phone and text my friends.

“Don’t freak out, but I’ve gone into labor. Continue with your classes. I’ll be fine. Clint, can you get my classwork for the rest of the week, please?” Not a minute after I send the message, Tony responds back.

“Yeah, let me guess: April Fool’s!” I stare at my screen, chuckling slightly. Trust Tony to think that I’d kid about one of the biggest experiences of my life.

“No, you idiot. My contractions are about seven minutes apart. I’ve got plenty of time before I have to go to the hospital, so don’t worry about me. Mrs. Rogers is taking very good care of me.” Steve texts back a few minutes later.

“Hi, mom!” I tell Mrs. Rogers what Steve said, and she chuckles. Clint responds soon after, but another contraction grips me, and I squeeze my eyes shut. Mrs. Rogers massages my back and helps me breathe through the contraction. After what seems like forever, the pain eases. I relax, panting for breath. Mrs. Rogers talks to me gently, making me focus on her words rather than the pain. This cycle repeats several times, until at last, the bells rings, signalling that the day is over. Not even five minutes pass before all of my friends are gathered around outside Mrs. Roger’s office. My contractions are now about four to five minutes apart, and are becoming quite intense.

“Honey, would you like a ride home? Usually, walking while in labor is a good thing, but I’d feel better if you’d let me give you a ride home and to the hospital.” I nod, tears of gratitude welling up in my eyes.

“Thank you so much,” I sniff. Clint pulls me into a careful hug, massaging my spasming back gently.

“I know it hurts, but we’ll get through this together, I promise. I’m here for you.” I snuggle against his chest, focusing on the feeling of my mate next to me.

“Is everyone ready? We have a mini-van, so you should all fit. I can drop everyone off at home and then stay with Natasha and Clint until they’re ready to go to the hospital. Does that sound good?” Her question is met with a series of resounding yeses. Clint helps me out to Mrs. Roger’s car, and I climb into the passenger seat; that way, people will not have to keep climbing over me.

A contraction hits me shortly after we get on the road, and Clint helps coach me from the back. The pain is starting to get so severe that I completely miss when Tony, Thor, and Loki are dropped off. Bruce and Steve are dropped off next, and soon, it is only Mrs. Rogers, Clint, and I left in the car. We travel to Coulson’s house in silence, broken only by little gasps of pain. At last, we reach Coulson’s house. He is already home, since he has a free hour during last period. Coulson meets us at the door with a prepacked bag. “How far apart are your contractions?” Coulson asks.

“They’re about three or four minutes apart and intensifying.” Coulson considers what I said.

“If you want, we can leave for the hospital soon.” I nod, grateful for the suggestion. It’s not that I don’t trust Coulson’s expertise, but if something goes wrong, I would prefer to be somewhere where there is equipment available to treat me. “Okay. I have a bag packed for both you, the baby, and Clint. If you’re ready, we can be off.” Coulson turns to Mrs. Rogers. “Thank you for taking care of Natasha for all of this time. If you’d like, you can go home and get some rest. I can take care of Natasha from here. We all really appreciate your help.” Mrs. Rogers smiles and nods.

“No problem. Natasha is such a sweetie. It was a pleasure looking after her. Birth is always such a miraculous thing,” Mrs. Rogers sighs wistfully. Coulson agrees.

“In all of my long life, I’ve never seen anything quite like it.” Another contraction grips me, and Mrs. Rogers turns to leave.

“Good luck, sweetheart. You’ll be fine.” Coulson and Clint help to support me as I ride out the contraction. Finally, the pain ebbs, and I straighten up. Coulson grabs our bags, and Clint helps me over to the car. Coulson lays a towel down on the front seat before Clint helps me into place.

“Just in case your water breaks. It makes clean-up so much easier,” Coulson chuckles. Clint climbs into the backseat and Coulson gets into the driver’s seat. “Alright, are we ready?” Clint and I both answer an affirmative. Coulson grins. “Okay, let’s go! We’ve got a baby to deliver!” With that, we exit the driveway, knowing that the next time we come up the driveway, our family will have a new little member to take care of.

Chapter Text

Chapter Forty Three

Natasha's P. o. V:

April 1st

The ride to the hospital is a blur. Coulson and Clint do their best to comfort me when contractions come on, and I do my best not to shout at them. This isn't their fault. They're just trying to help me. I repeat this mantra over and over again, trying to force myself to believe it. At last, we arrive at the hospital. Coulson lets Clint off at the door to check us in and get me a wheelchair. I'm grateful for this, because I'm not sure that my legs will support me. Coulson parks the car, and Clint comes out to us while pushing a wheelchair. They both help me to get situated before pushing me into the hospital. I ride out another contraction, biting back the urge to scream. This is the most painful thing that I've ever experienced in my life.

Once I am wheeled through the doors, a nurse takes over, pushing me towards a room. I whimper, not eager to be separated from my mate. "Don't worry, sweetie. Once we get you all settled in, your mate can come visit, okay?" I nod. She brings me to a little room and helps me onto the bed. No sooner do I lay back before another contraction rips through me. My hands tighten against the sides of the bed, my knuckles white. The nurse counts for me, coaching me through the breathing. Finally, the contraction ends. The nurse helps me into a hospital gown, and I settle back into the bed as best I can. She checks my dilation and nods in approval. "You're about 8 centimeters dilated. It won't be long now. Do you want me to go get your mate and the man that brought you in?" I nod.

"Please do." The nurse leaves, and I try to get comfortable. Just as Clint and Coulson walk in, another contraction begins to wrack my body. Clint rushes to my side, and my mate's presence helps to calm me down a bit. Coulson coaches me through the pain, and at last, my body relaxes. Clint kisses my forehead and brushes my hair back.

"You're so beautiful, Nat. I love you so much. You're so strong." Coulson sits back and watches us interact.

"Clint, I love you so much. If anything happens to me," I begin, but Clint cuts me off.

"Don't talk like that. You're going to be fine. Nothing is going to happen, and you're going to have a beautiful baby girl to take care of."

"Clint, please be realistic. I'm so young. There's a good chance that something will go wrong, and I want you to be prepared. If something happens to me, will you take care of Alex? I can't stand the thought of another child being put in the foster system." Tears well up in my eyes as my abdomen begins to tighten again.

"Shh, honey, you're okay. I promise that I'll take care of Alex, but you'll be here with me. I won't let you go. We're going to raise this child together, do you understand me?" I nod, squeezing Clint's hand as I ride out the rest of the contraction. As the contraction ends, there is a knock on the door.

"Come in," I call. A doctor pokes his head in.

"Miss Romanoff?" I nod, and he fully enters the room. "Hello. I'm Dr. Barnes. I'll be helping you through your delivery, okay?" I nod again, still trying to catch my breath. "Do you mind if I check your dilation?" I shake my head, and he positions me so that he can get a clear view of my cervix. "You're about nine centimeters dilated. Almost there. Are you okay? Any unusual pain during contractions?"

"No, not that I've noticed. Then again, it's so painful that I probably wouldn't notice if something felt weird," I grumble. Dr. Barnes chuckles.

"Believe me, you'll know if something is wrong. Do you want an epidural?"

"No, I'd prefer not to. I like to be control of my body," I say, shuddering as I remember Mr. Richards and Austin.

"That's perfectly understandable. I've got to check on some other patients, but if you need me, go ahead and press that button over there, okay?"

"Thank you," I reply, managing to give him a small smile. After he leaves, I turn to Clint. "I really need to go to the bathroom. Can you take me before another contraction causes me to pee myself?" Clint laughs, but carefully helps me out of bed. Coulson watches us the whole time, making sure that I'm okay. Clint waits outside the door as I use the bathroom. As I'm getting ready to wipe, I feel a new set of contractions coming on. The first one hits, and I feel a trickle of liquid exiting my body. "Clint?" I call out, after the contraction releases.

"Yeah, Nat? Are you done?"

"I'm done, but I'm pretty sure my water just broke."

"What color is it?" Coulson asks. I look in the toilet.

"I think it was clear, maybe a little yellow. Is that okay?"

"Yes, that's perfectly fine." Clint comes in and guides me back to the bed. Coulson leaves to go tell a nurse that my water broke. Within seconds, the nurse appears.

"Let's check your dilation again, okay?" I nod and settle back as she checks my cervix. "You're at nine and a half centimeters. I'll go get the doctor. You should be ready to start pushing within the next half hour or so."

"Thank you," I reply, and the nurse leaves. "I have to do this for another half hour?" I moan. Coulson smiles.

"Maybe it won't be that long," he reassures me.

"I sure hope not," I grumble back.

Sure enough, I reach full dilation within twenty minutes. Dr. Barnes reappears and coaches me through the delivery. I don't remember much about the delivery, other than a lot of pushing, pressure, and pain. Alex's first cries were music to my ears, and I finally allowed myself to relax for the first time since going into labor. Miraculously, I managed to deliver naturally, with very little tearing. As long as I take it easy, I should recover fairly quickly.

Alex is cleaned off and evaluated before she is handed to me. I hold her in my arms, tears pricking at my eyes. "You're so beautiful," I coo, stroking her red hair.

"Gorgeous like her mama," Clint says, coming to sit beside me.

"Do you want to hold her?" I ask him. Clint gives me a hopeful look.

"Can I?" I nod, gently transferring Alex to Clint's arms. He cradles her expertly, and she snuggles against his chest. Coulson leans down and gives me a hug, tears streaming down his cheeks.

"Congratulations, Tasha. You were amazing."

"Coulson, I know this is sudden, but would you be willing to be Alex's godfather?" Coulson's face lights up with joy.

"I would be honored." Clint offers Alex to Coulson, and he gladly accepts her.

"Say hello to your godfather, Alex," I whisper. My heart swells with joy as I look at my little family. Things have been rough in the past, but I've been given the chance to start again, and for that, I am thankful.