The Flame (Avengers Fanfiction)

7-The Mistake

"You asshole!" Natasha yelled at Clint, trying not to throw something at him. He had just told her that Laura was pregnant and she knew by the guilty look on his face that something had happened in between him and Peyton on the mission. She knew it as soon as she saw Clint and Peyton after their mission a few weeks ago.

"Can you fucking calm down? Please?" He snapped at the red head. There was ears listening everywhere in the SHIELD base and he didn't need any of this conversation finding it's way back to Peyton. Natasha glared at the man as he moved closer to him. Clint's room at the base wasn't very big so it didn't take much movement.

"You want me to fucking calm down, Clint? You fucking cheated on your pregnant wife! Knowingly cheated on her! You probably slept with Peyton because she was pissed at you right? You just can't have her being mad at you." She told him quietly, her anger very evident in her voice. His lack of response and his clenched jaw answered for him. She wanted to say something else, but her phone ringing cut her off. Natasha shot him a look before answering the call.

"N-Nat, where are you?" Peyton was sniffling, her voice sounding pained. A look of concern flashed over Natasha's face.

"I'm at the base, remember? Wh-" The red head was cut off my her friend's voice.

"I need you. Please." And that's all she said before hanging up. Natasha slowly pulled the phone away before tucking it back in her pocket. Clint looked concern, but Natasha sent him another look before walking out of the archer's room.

-

Sixteen pieces of plastic sat on the bathroom counter. Sixteen fucking positives. Despite Clint and I using condoms, I was fucking pregnant. God ducking damn it.

I was laying on my bed, tears running down my face. I needed Natasha to be here. I needed her-

And like magic, my bedroom door opened and the red head ran in, her eyes landed on me. Natasha had seen me crying many, many times, but it looked like she quickly realized that this time was different from my usual bouts of depression.

"Peyton, what's wrong?" Natasha asked, almost cooing, stepping towards the bed. I wiped at my eyes and pointed to to the bathroom. Natasha swallowed, probably bracing herself for the worst as she walked into the bathroom. She stalled in the doorway and more tears flowed down my cheeks as she softly says, "Oh shit."

"It-it's Clint's. It can't be anyone else's-Oh my God I'm such a fucking idiot." I get out in between sobs as she quickly walks to the bed, pulling me into her arms, "Natasha, they told me that I couldn't have any kids-They said it was impossible." Her hands rubbed my back, trying to calm me down.

"You're not an idiot, sweetie, not at all." Natasha murmured softly to me and I shook my head. I couldn't be a mom. I can't be a mom-Oh my God what I was supposed to tell Clint?

"What am I supposed to tell Clint? I can't be a mom, Natasha. I can't even stay sober-I can't even take care of myself. I can't do this." I looked at her as the word vomit poured out of my mouth, "Oh my God, Tony is going to be pissed-I'm not going to be able to go out on missions-The press-"

"Peyton, breathe." Natasha said firmly, holding my face in her hands, "Talk to Clint, okay?" When she had said Clint's name, her mood had changed. Something had flickered in eyes. Anger.

"Alright, but please, please Tasha, don't tell anyone." I looked at her, forcing myself to calm down. She mustered up a smile, sadness mixing with that anger in her eyes, nodding.

When Natasha had left (she had took the tests with her to dispose of), I had called Clint. I asked him if he could come by before he left to do whatever he does when he isn't on a mission. He had agreed.

That had been an hour ago.

Now Clint was sitting in front of me, holding the ice cold bottle of beer in his hand. We had been pretty silent since we had said our greetings. I tried to get comfortable, tried to even out my breathing. I needed to tell him, I needed to get it out-

"So, why did you invite m-" Clint started, but my nervous word vomit shot out.

"I'm pregnant." I shot out and Clint sat up a bit straighter, his eyes wide. "It can only be yours, Clint." I added and Clint stood up. He started to walk around, rubbing his face with his hands.

"Shit. Shit!" He shouts suddenly and I jump. My heart sank and I felt like I needed to throw up. I watch as he walks to the large window wall, his arms crossed over his chest. He was quiet for a moment before he lowered his head slightly. "Peyton,...neither of us are in a good position in life...and with our type of work-"

"You want me to get rid of it?" I asked, my voice filled with emotion, tears brimming in my eyes. He didn't look at me as he continued.

"Peyton, you're a recovering drug addict and a recovering alcoholic. I'm always out on a mission and someone is always out for you and Tony." Clint told me and it almost felt like my heart was being squeezing. A voice inside of my head that sounded an awful lot like my mother's told me not to listen to him. I shakily pressed a hand against my stomach.

"You don't want me to have it." I said, my voice wavering. He nodded and tears rolled down my cheeks. He wouldn't look at me, "Damn it, Clint  look at me!" I yelled at him and Clint looked at me.

"Who else knows?" He asks, seemingly ignoring my current state. My eyes narrowed to him.

"Only Natasha. Now, Clint, what do you want me to do?" I asked. His face paled at the mention of Natasha's name.

"Neither of us are in the position to have a kid. It would better for the kid, sweetheart, if it isn't born. We both know this was a mistake." He almost seemed pained to say it, but my anger flared at the use of a pet name in this situation.

"Don't call me sweetheart." I spat at him, glaring as he looked at everything else in the room but me. I wiped away my tears, ruining my make up even more. "I'll take care of this, but after this, I don't want they're to be anymore chances of a mistake. We're done." He looked up at me, nodded before walking to the elevator and hitting the down button.

"I'm sorry, Peyton." He said softly as the elevator doors slid open and he walked in. Clint looked at me and a sudden anger bubbled up inside of me. I grabbed his almost full beer and throw it at his head. Clint's eyes widen in shock and fear, but the doors slide close before it can hit him.

I sit back down on the couch I was sitting on, sobs racking my body. I wrap my arms around myself, touching my still flat stomach. I felt like shit. Clint was right. I was too much of a fuck up. The kid inside of me didn't deserve to be born to a fuck up. It's only an embryo right now, some part of me whispered, not even an embryo-a blastocyst. Just a cluster of cells. A baby, the Mom voice said softly, its a baby-a human. A baby. My baby.

A baby that wouldn't be living the life it deserved. You know it.

This kid won't bring you and Clint back together.

What will Tony think?

You can't be an agent.

You won't be a good mom.

You can't have this child.

Slowly but surely, that voice in my head became Clint's.

This is a mistake. We both know it.

A mistake.