Warnings: mentions of abortion
Characters: Clint, Natasha, Pepper, Tony
Genres: angst, hurt/comfort, family | Smut: none
Word count: 5379 | Status: complete
There’s something about her apartment that’s always made him feel at ease. Maybe the soft, burnt orange walls or the seemingly endless amount of books that take up every available space from the coffee table to the kitchen counter (she reads when she cooks, he’s caught her off guard a few times while he’s on his way out the door). Either way there’s always been something about being in her presence (even if it’s just until he gets dressed again) that melts away the stress of his job, his life, all of it. Except for tonight, right now as she’s pacing in front of him and the muscles beneath her skin are flexing with every ounce of (Anger? Worry? Clint actually can’t tell this time but any of the above are acceptable). There’s a stick on the table in front of him, a little white plastic stick with two pink lines and although his mind is screaming at him and telling him that he has no idea what it means, he can feel deep down inside that he knows damn well.My comment: There’s so much angst, but eventual fluff.
She’s pregnant. Of all the things that could have happened between them two it ends with this.
A baby.
Fucking great.
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