Uh-oh, Natasha is pregnant! How is she supposed to break the news to Clint?

I actually enjoyed this prompt quite a bit! In the near future, I might continue this one in a full feature story. I'll keep you posted.

I don't own Marvel, etc.

Her heart pounded and her head raced. She glared down at the white and blue stick on the bathroom countertop. Slowly, two pink lines appeared. Oh shit. Oh shit. She paced back and forth in the ridiculously over-sized bathroom at her apartment in Stark Tower.

She'd rather be facing ten men- no, one hundred men- armed to the brim in the middle of a brutal Russian winter storm. She'd rather be chased through Manhattan by a very green and very angry Bruce Banner. She'd rather be trapped in a padded cell with the God of Mischief himself. Anything but this.

She couldn't be pregnant! Her current line of work didn't exactly lend itself well for the family life. She was a murderer, an assassin, a spy, and she was most definitely not the mothering type.

A baby. What was she going to do with a baby? Drop it off at the daycare down the street whenever S.H.I.E.L.D. sent her on a mission halfway around the world? Tony would probably want to babysit. There was ho way her baby getting anywhere near Sta-

No! What was she thinking! She can't have a baby. It would just be in danger. It would get in the way. It would distract and disrupt. It would be too needy. She didn't have the patience to be a mother. But Clint would make a good fath- Shit.

How was she going to tell Clint. Oh god. For a master assassin that almost never lost her cool, she was quickly flying into a full-blown panic attack. She stopped pacing the floor and stared at herself in the mirror, her cold blue eyes filled with the ghosts of her past. She couldn't be a mother. She didn't even know how to be a mother. It's not like she had the most normal childhood- being raised to become a skilled killer didn't constitute as a normal. And Clint's childhood was just as fucked up as hers…

A light rap at the door cause her to jump slightly.

"You okay, Nat?" Clint called from the other side of the door. "You've been in there for ten minutes. Stark called a meeting…" He waited for some sort of reply but he was greeted with only silence. "Natasha?"

He gently clicked the door open and peered inside. She stood over the sink, head down, fingers grasping the granite so tightly he thought she was going to snap the counter in half.

"Nat, what's wrong?" He asked worriedly, closing the distance between them in four hurried steps. He'd never seen her so… worked up- and that was saying something.

She felt his hand lightly press down on her shoulder and she let out a shaky breath. Okay, she told herself, now or never. Just spit it out. Like ripping off a bandaid.

"Impregnan," she mumbled, unable to form the words. This was going to be harder than she thought.

"What was that?" he raised an eyebrow.

She let out a deep sign and turned to face him. "I'm… pregnant." She watched as his pale blue eyes popped open, wider than she thought was humanly possible. He didn't speak, he just stared blankly at her.

This was bad, worse than she had thought. She was pregnant, he was the father, and neither one of them were cut out to be parents. And his silence just added to her already sky-high blood pressure. Couldn't he say anything? Couldn't he frown or smile or laugh or scream or do something!

"Clint…" she watched him carefully.

He snapped out of whatever trance he had slipped into at the sound of his name. She looked up at him expectantly and he grinned down at her.

Her eyebrows knitted together. "What?"

"We're having a baby," he beamed. He couldn't stop smiling as he cupped her face in his hands.

"You're not upset?" she asked in astonishment.

He shook his head vigorously. "Why would I be upset?"

"We can't be parents Clint. We're not…" she whispered. Doubt rolled over her like a tidal wave.

"Not what? I think we'd be fucking awesome parents, Nat," he smirked.

"You think so?" Her voice began to shake against her will and she cursed her body for reacting so weakly.

Give her a city full of aliens hellbent on destroying the world and she's as cool as a cucumber. But this was different. Killing was easy, killing was simple. Sure, she could take a hundred lives easy enough. But keeping one alive and nurtured?

Clint nodded and pressed his lips to her forehead. "Yes."

Suddenly, all skepticism and apprehension lifted from her. He was so confidant. Maybe they could care for a child. It would take adjustments but their life was one constant adjustment. She smiled softly and buried her head in his chest. He wrapped his arms around her tightly. They stood together for what felt like hours.

"Clint, Natasha," the voice that unmistakably belonged to Tony barked over the intercom, "waiting on you two."

"We'll be there in a minute," Natsaha replied firmly, lifting her head away from Clint's body.

"Well you two lovebirds better hurry up or I'm sending Capsicle down there," Tony quipped and the buzz of the intercom disappeared.

The two assassin sighed, untangling themselves from each others arms. She clasped his hand in hers and pulled him out of the bathroom.

"So wait," he said as they walked to the elevator at the far end of their apartment, "does this mean our baby will be some cross between a bird and a spider because that would be awesome."

He dodged an elbow to the stomach and smirked. "Admit that would be cool."

She shook her head and rolled her eyes. Unconsciously, her hand fell to her stomach and glided her hand over the smooth fabric of her cotton shirt.

"And if it's a boy," a sad smile twitched on his lips, "Let's name him Phil."

She nodded. He brought her hand up to his lips and he kissed it, looking appreciation and lovingly into her eyes.

As the elevator doors closed, a smile bloomed onto her face. Maybe they could do this. As long as Clint was by her side, she knew she could.