Baby America (Steve x Natasha) - Pregnancy Story

4

Natasha woke up next to Steve in the car. They'd spent the night there after the party, then woke up to find Steve pants-less and Natasha with all her buttons done up wrong.

Slowly, the pair hazily came around. There was an awkward silence as they scanned their surroundings, only finally broken by Natasha's blunt question: "Did we have sex?" Both of our heroes looked as at a loss as the other.

Suddenly, the evening's events came flooding back to the pair. 

Short answer? Yes, they most certainly had sex.

The breaking of the second awkward silence came from Natasha once again, but this time it was to throw up. She quickly swung the door open and vomited onto the leafy forest floor below her. Clint saw her and came rushing over.

"Shit, Nat, you must've gone hard last night! Are you alright?" He asked, planting a reassuring palm on her shoulder. Clint knew Natasha wasn't exactly a lightweight, so this confused him a little.

"Yeah I'm fine," Natasha replied, grabbing a breath mint from Steve's car.

Suddenly, Clint's tone became a lot more serious as he spoke; leaning on the car door, he said, "Natasha, are you okay?"

She took a deep breath before responding, running a hand through her hair. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," she said, and was going to leave it at that - but Clint looked doubtful and concerned, so she followed up, "Seriously. I'm okay, Clint - I promise." She then proceeded to throw up all over his shoes.

Before Natasha got an opportunity to apologise, Clint butted in first. "Get it out, it's okay, don't worry about it. Just get it all out your system, okay?" And boy did she. Clint had to give his shoes a deep clean after that.

A few minutes later, Natasha got up out the car and ventured over to find Clint clearing himself up. She approached him, leaning against an oak, "I... Uh... Sorry about that," she said.

"No, it's okay. If you ever need a shoulder to cry on or shoes to throw up on - You can always come to me, alright? You are my best friend, Nat and I'm here for you. So please, tell me what the fuck is going on," he said, rubbing her arm comfortingly.

Natasha took a minute to think through what she was about to tell Clint, whether it was worth it or not.

Finally, she inhaled deeply and unveiled her secret, "Clint, I'm pregnant."

"Oh my..." He spent a minute taking it in, "I - Congratulations! Holy... How far along are you?" As he said this, he reached out and placed his palm to what she was now noticing was a tiny bump. Tiny, to be sure, but there. She held his hand within her own, and they felt together.

"I've just gone 8 weeks," Natasha said, wiping a tear from her closest friend's eye.

"Can I ask?" Clint said ambiguously.

"Ask... What?" Natasha questioned, curious as to what he was getting out.

"Oh come on, you know..." He lowered his tone to a whisper, "There a dad around?"

"I thought you knew me well! Like I'd ever tell," Natasha scoffed before promptly walking off into the woods.

"Wait, Nat, if you're pregnant, why were you drinking so much last night?" He called out to her. Suddenly, she turned around, and came back a little closer.

"I don't need your fucking judgement, Clint. Look, I think you'd agree that times have been tough on all of us at the moment, and I'm allowed to experiment in some escapism if I want." Natasha retorted.

"I know, I know. I just want to make sure you're looking after yourself, Natasha. I know what you're like sometimes, and I care about you, and need you to be safe." His words rang in her ears like an echo of a battle yet to come. Everybody was so focused on her staying well, it was suffocating and exhausting. She was quickly becoming weary of all these men telling her what to do. Unfortunately, she didn't have much else at the minute - men were all she had.