Happy holidays! So here we are again, with the sequel to Lion-Hearted Girl! Updates will be once a week until the story is finished, then will be twice weekly as before. Please be merciful with me; the beginning is a little shaky until I get my sea-legs under me. Also this is the first time I've tried writing a romantic scene before, so I doubt it's any good but I hope it's at least not terrible.

Thanks for your patience!

In the seventy years or so since she'd last been pregnant, morning sickness and other irritations of the first trimester had fallen to the wayside and been forgotten in the gaping years. All there had been in the time between were missions, blood, and half-baked memories of a baby and husband long lost. Natasha was happy to have the chance for a family again, in the grand scheme of things, but it was hard to see the grand scheme when her entire life was zeroed in around the clammy toilet bowl and the sweat on her brow.

Clint padded quietly in and tied her hair back with firm but gentle hands. "How you feeling, sugar?" he asked as he sat against the wall.

She heaved for another ten minutes, spat into the bowl, and flushed before leaning back into his chest. Big hands wrapped around her waist, callouses rubbing against the bare strip of skin at her waist. Natasha pressed them down until dents sank into softening flesh in an attempt to ease the discomfort. It had been ten weeks and they hadn't dared tell the team yet, not when she had miscarried at nine just under three years ago. Didn't dare get carried away with themselves when they could still lose it. Two weeks before the greatest danger had passed. Two weeks to keep the secret their own, keep the hurt and fear safe within the walls of their home.

Turning her eyes into his neck, she made a small wordless sound of unease as an answer to his question. One of Clint's hands slipped free to push strands of stringy hair from her forehead.

"Bed?"

When she nodded he easily looped his arms under hers and pulled them both to their feet. With one arm around her waist he poured a cup of water and held it in front of her lips. "Rinse, or I'm not kissing you." She did, then shuffled back to bed because it was only 3AM. Morning sickness at a whole new level. Rolling onto her side, Natasha wound a leg between Clint's and fell asleep with her mouth crushed open against his side.

They were spies. Even if Natasha wasn't an active agent any longer her training would never leave her. And yet keeping such a secret from their teammates and friends was one of the most difficult things she and Clint had done in a long time. There were so many anxieties, so many worries and fears that any one of their friends could help them work through, so many times in normal conversation that they came close to just opening their mouths and letting it all come out, but they couldn't. It just wasn't worth the looks of heartache they would inevitably get if they lost it. A secret it would have to be until they were absolutely certain it was safe.

Now that the serum was gone, when Natasha slept, she dreamed. Normal things most of the time, normal dreams just like anyone else, but once in a while a nightmare of epic proportions slipped through. Visions of her bloody time in the Red Room, half-formed illusions of losing Clint or another teammate at her own fault, the usual things for a person with a ledger as red as hers. But that morning she dreamed of a life months down the line, her stomach heavy and round, sitting in the kitchen and cutting the baby out of her own gut with a butcher knife.

She woke up gasping and clenching the sheets, searching for blood and a swollen belly that of course wasn't there. It had only been ten weeks. Even if she and Clint had started noticing the slight difference in her figure - hiding it from the team under loose shirts - it was nowhere near her size in the dream. Sitting up and curling her knees to her chest while she was still able, she listened for Clint. He was showering, going about his morning routine while she slept, and Natasha was actually grateful. The last thing she needed was more time with a therapist. Her few mandated weeks after reverting the serum had been plenty, thanks.

"You feeling okay, Tash?" Clint called, voice muffled by the toothbrush in his mouth. "How's the kidney bean?"

Despite the breathless fear still clinging to her skin, the corner of Natasha's mouth curled upward. "Not a kidney bean," she replied. "And I'm fine. Getting breakfast on the group floor; I'll tell them you're coming."

"Thanks, Red Hots!"

Natasha rolled her eyes and treaded into the main room on bare feet to dig in one of the kitchen drawers for a phone book. It was old and really, she wasn't sure why Clint even had it, but she leafed through it until she found a number for an obstetrician in the neighborhood. A quick cross-reference through the SHIELD database on her tablet helped her eliminate most of the doctors in the book until she was left with four. That was when the shower stopped and she heard Clint getting out to towel off.

For a moment her heart jumped like she'd been caught doing something wrong. Clint padded into the kitchen with a towel slung low around his hips and scrutiny on his face, but she kept looking through the different files on her tablet.

"Thought you were going upstairs?" he asked, not accusing but curious as he peered over her shoulder, damp chest against her back. She felt his heart thud a little faster when he realized what she was doing and pressed a biting kiss to her ear. Wrapping his hands around her waist again, he gave her a little squeeze and murmured, "It's getting realer. Hitting a little closer to home every day."

"Really? Hit me pretty hard when the vomiting started," Natasha hummed, shutting her eyes and Clint's low laughter rumbling in her ribs. The last threads of tension left over from the nightmare slowly slid away, soaked up by the cooling droplets of water still clinging to his skin. Hands at her waist became arms snaking fully around her, the smell of his body wash, the comfort and strength and home that she had known for nearly ten years curling around the sapling in the pit of her stomach. She gripped his wrists and arched back against him before pulling up one of the files. "What do you think of this one?"

Clint leaned further forward, meaning she also had to lean to let him with their bodies pressed so tightly together. "I think you know better who you want up in your lady business, but she looks clean to me," he concluded after a few minutes of quiet reading. "Let me know when you make an appointment and I'll go with you. If that's what you want." He pressed a warm puckered kiss to her hair, then another behind her ear, to the base of her skull, and grinned when she shivered. His hands dragged up to cup her breasts and take advantage of how sensitive they'd been for the past week.

They were going to be late to breakfast with the team, but that was fine. Natasha twisted until her front was pressed to every line of his, her back suddenly cold in the absence of his warmth, and snaked a leg between his as she kissed him sharp and deep. His tongue tasted like spearmint. It was almost embarrassing how quickly she was reduced to a gasping mess, but Clint knew her well, knew every button to press and every soft spot to dig his broad calloused fingers.

The towel slipped from around his waist when he hauled her up onto the kitchen counter, pulling off her sleep shorts and pushing aside her underwear and gripping her backside for leverage. She gulped for air and threaded her fingers into his short hair, curling around him and hooking her knees over his shoulders when tongue and teeth went to play. She wasn't usually accustomed to dragging this out, years of conditioning making what was supposed to be a pleasant experience just another perfunctory chore, something to be taken care of for health and sanity then pressed aside to complete the mission, but Clint was the opposite. He took his time, enjoyed every second of it, every gasping moan he could draw from the back of her throat and every scrape of short fingernails against his scalp. It was like he thought he would win a prize or something.

His lips and tongue fastened over her clit, he slid his fingers up inside her, and she shuddered over the edge before even he could even move. "God, you're so sensitive like this," he groaned like it was a good thing, stroking her through the aftershocks.

It took a minute for her to catch her breath and loosen her legs around his shoulders, but she just gripped him for balance and slid to his waist from the counter, grinding against him until he carried her to the table, a lower surface, and slowly pushed inside with another groan. Her shirt was yanked off over her head, by whose hands they would never be really certain, and he laved at her sensitive nipples while she used her heels to pull him in closer by the small of his back. Electricity wound from her breasts down into the point of heat where their bodies joined and crackled. She yanked on the back of his head until he looked up and she kissed him, hard and open-mouthed, tasting herself on his lips.

"Do I taste different to you?" she asked, brow furrowed.

Clint smiled, sloppy and open-mouthed and his thrusts going a little uneven. "It's not unheard of for that to happen when you're pregnant," he breathlessly replied, eyes dark as he looked at her.

Laughing softly, she combed her fingers through his spiked damp hair. "Since when do you know that?"

"I never take on a new mission unprepared, Tash." Then he bit her neck until she forgot what day it was.

Just as he'd jerked and shuddered with his mouth fastened over what would be a livid mark by noon, the apartment door swung open and Tony howled. "Guys! How many times do I have to tell you?! Activate JARVIS's privacy mode and this won't keep happening, god damn!" he yelled with a hand clapped over his eyes as he scrambled for the door. Natasha buried her face in Clint's shoulder and grinned against his salty skin, smoothing a hand down his back while he recovered from the shock in the middle of what should have been a great orgasm.

They started laughing because they didn't know what else to do, sticky foreheads pressed together as they caught their breath again. "You okay?" she asked. "How's your pride?"

"Only a little bruised, but that's just fine," Clint chuckled, carefully pulling out of her and reaching for some tissues to clean up. "Y'know what? Let's just take another shower."

Honestly, she was just glad she hadn't gotten nauseous while he was down on her. That probably would have been an even bigger bruise to his pride than being walked in on mid-climax. Once she was certain her legs would hold her, Natasha slid to the floor and retrieved Clint's abandoned towel, slinging it over her shoulder and leading the way to the bathroom.

When they shuffled out onto the group floor twenty minutes later it was to Tony's shit-eating grin and Pepper serenely kicking him under the table while she nursed Maria, their ten-month-old. Actually, whether Maria was biologically Tony's or Bruce's was uncertain, but none of the three were in a rush to find out as long as she was healthy. The team didn't question the private lives of two of the smartest men in the world and the CEO of the world's highest-ranking international corporation. Especially not when it made them all so happy.

"Not a word, Iron Ass," Clint barked to Pepper's consternation, and they sat together between Bruce and Steve. Tony doubled over with silent laughter; it was Bruce's turn to kick him. Most everyone was finished eating but they had waited; Natasha was still getting used to the sensation of being wanted, sometimes. She poured a dry bowl of frosted shredded wheat and picked at it in her usual fashion while Clint made a bagel.

"I swear to god, you guys should not still be having morning sex all over your apartment at this stage in your marriage!" bemoaned Tony. Pepper covered Maria's ears and shot him a look.

For a moment the words rolled to the tip of her tongue, perched and waiting to fly free so this burden would be off her shoulders, but she bit it back, barely. "Well, it's a special occasion," came out instead.

She and Clint met eyes and the room went still. One of his eyebrows twitched a question and she minutely curved her lip downward; now was not the time. Two weeks. They had sworn themselves that they would wait through the next two weeks before anyone else would know, and they needed to stick to it or their world could crumble. Natasha didn't think she could bear the sadness in their teammates' faces if they lost the baby before the highest-risk time had passed.

All eyes were on her suddenly, and it was clear that they knew but wouldn't dare believe until she said it, so she bit her tongue over the truth. "We were celebrating a different anniversary," she lied with a plasticine smirk, and everyone stiffly laughed. The tension in the room rippled and fractured apart.

Watching her intently, Tony narrowed his eyes but didn't press the issue. Instead he started building something out of a pile of forks and said, "Well next time, give a guy a little warning, would you? I think I went blind and deaf."

"Because you've never done, seen, or heard anything worse before," said Bruce with a roll of his eyes. "Come on, let's protect your delicate sensibilities and go to the lab. Sorry guys." He patted Clint's shoulder in apology before pulling Tony from the room. Moments later Pepper excused herself to get to work, Maria happily settled on her hip. Bucky and Steve were left with them, and the air was thick with tension again. Despite the fact that Bucky had been well and on their side for well over a year, things with him and Natasha were sometimes still awkward.

Clint offered half of his bagel, holding it in front of her face so she had no choice but to smell the cinnamon and the hazelnut cream cheese. "Want some?" he asked with a full mouth and smug expression. He knew it was her favorite when her stomach wasn't rolling lazy circles.

There was a shadow in his eyes - you're eating for two, now - and she imperceptibly narrowed her eyes at him in warning. The last thing she needed was for Clint to nag her. Natasha knew her body and her limitations, and hell, she'd been pregnant before! She had carried a baby to term; just because Rose hadn't lived didn't mean that she wasn't familiar with the way pregnancy worked. He had no right to think he knew any more than she did.

"No thank you," she stonily said. "I'm fine with my cereal."

They stared one another down until her stomach rumbled and she turned back to the bowl. Bucky and Steve were studiously avoiding one another's eyes. "So, I hear Peter's going to be back from his trip in a few days," Steve finally said to break the silence.

Bucky leaped on the change. "Yeah, I heard that too. Vancouver. Nice. He, uh...went with friends?" he asked.

"Yeah. Yeah, I think his girlfriend."

"Oh. Yeah. Nice. That's good, kid deserves a break."

"I agree."

There was an audible crunch as Clint chomped down on his bagel and Natasha's stomach churned. She pushed back from the table and swept out as quickly as she could without sprinting. Clint's footsteps immediately followed her.

"Natasha! Hey, Tasha, wait up!"

Once they were gone, Steve and Bucky shared a look. "There's something wacky going on with those two, Steve-o."

"I know, Buck. It's best just not to ask."

When Clint's footsteps found her Natasha was on the balcony, clutching the safety rail and breathing deep and slow to quell her nausea. His hands softly closed over her waist. "Hey, are you okay?" he asked and she felt the air around her constrict like a plastic bag over her head.

"I'm fine, I just need two seconds to myself without you sitting on me," Natasha found herself snapping between breaths. Her hands tightened around the rail and she shut her eyes. "Sorry. I'm sorry, Clint. I'm just feeling sick." One hand smoothed over her back and she bowed her head, taking another deep breath as her stomach rolled. "I wish you would stop hovering, though."

After a few moments' thought he nodded and pressed a kiss against her hair. "Okay. You're right, sorry. I'm worrying too much. Just, you know, after everything that's happened. I don't want to see you like that again," he explained to the back of her neck. She knew what he meant; after the miscarriage in Bosnia three years ago the memories of her past, of her daughter being stillborn in the middle of a battlefield, and of the Red Room peeling her open to inject her with the super serum as punishment, had her reeling back and forth from the edge of nervous breakdown for almost an entire year.

Natasha leaned back against his chest as soon as she was certain she wasn't going to throw up her breakfast. "I know. I don't want to see me like that again either," she admitted, "but I need you to trust me to do what's right. What I know is right."

"I do trust you. Of course I trust you, I've trusted you for ten years. I'm sorry if I made you doubt that. We okay?"

"Yeah, Clint, stand down. We're just fine."

His smile curled in her hair. "You're gonna have to hound me on it, but I'll try to back off. I just wanna make sure I don't get in trouble for neglecting my wife, since you're doing all the heavy lifting an' all."

"Well, it's not like it's my first time doing some heavy lifting," she pointed out, and Clint's smile widened into a grin. "What?"

"Not with a Barton, though. We Barton men are acrobats."

She rolled her eyes and reached back to press a noncommittal slap to his face; it came as more of a fast push. "Yes, I'm sure it will be a very talented fetus. We'll have to make sure the sonogram only gets its good side."

"Mm, there'll only be good sides, since it'll be cute as a shiny new penny, too. Hey, Penny, that's...is it too soon to be thinking of-?"

"Yes," she firmly said, but it was too late. Her heart was already racing with the image of a girl named Penny curled against her side. Golden hair like Clint's when he was a child, big green eyes, and ballet classes every Thursday. Natasha clenched her jaw and beat it away. "Two weeks, remember? Invest nothing."

After a breath, he nodded, sounding a little thicker than usual when he spoke. The same images and thoughts had been swirling in his mind. "Two weeks," he confirmed. "I love you."

"I love you too," she replied with her eyes firmly closed.