re: a particular 'verse

[halfassed]

Seven kids?

Nat barely warmed up to the one. She barely kept the one.

And you know I'm never getting out of the business. Not all the way. Not really. It's in my blood now.

Comments

[unmakeme]

Seven?

No.

[halfassed]

Three? Two girls and a boy. The boy is last.

[unmakeme]

[Immediately.] No.

[And then, after she has a moment to think on what he said.]

Why two girls?

[halfassed]

Red looks better on girls.

[unmakeme]

The chances of you having a redheaded child are very slim.

[Obtuse on purpose? Her? Never.]

[halfassed]

I would say the chances of me conceiving and bearing a child are almost nonexistent.

I say almost because with Stark in the mix, you never can tell.

[unmakeme]

Well. There you go.

[halfassed]

I won't let her out of my sight.

[unmakeme]

You can do whatever you want with her.

[Not that she cares. Not that her eyes inadvertently flicker over to the little bundle of nothing curled against his chest. Cause it's not her concern. She kept it for him, because he begged, and she doesn't like seeing him so desperate.]

[halfassed]

Did your mun tell you about the shower thing? Cause I'd rather keep that to myself.

[unmakeme]

She--

[And there, that tiny little flash of a smile, gone as quickly as it arrived.]

You shouldn't put a baby in the sink.

[She knows that much, at least.]

[halfassed]

The water wasn't on!

And she would have rolled off the counter. Might have rolled off the counter. That is not an acceptable alternative.

[unmakeme]

You're very overprotective.

[She's gone to that place where she sounds flat and serious, where it's impossible to tell what she's actually thinking. Nearly impossible.

A girl should have an overprotective father. She should have someone to protect her, to keep the bad things away. A child needs security, and there's no one more secure than Clint.]

[halfassed]

Is that a surprise?

[Cause it's a surprise to him. It's a surprise that he's feeling this outpouring of emotions, it's a surprise that he's tugged right out of his calm and into a place of complete internal chaos.]

[unmakeme]

I supposed not. Parents-- fathers are supposed to be overprotective when it comes to their children.

[The fact that he went into all this believing it wasn't his just proves how stupid he is... and how lucky that little girl is.]

[halfassed]

Yeah, I don't know much about that.

[He doesn't remember much about that.]

[unmakeme]

You seem to be doing all right.

She's happy with you. She... loves you.

[And she hates Nat. Which is really just par for the course. There's nothing to love. There's nothing real.

As soon as the baby wakes up and notices her there she'll start screaming her head off. And that'll be her cue to leave.]

[halfassed]

She wants a mother.

[unmakeme]

[Natasha stares at that little sleeping baby for a long time, singularly focused, things ticking over in her mind and leaving no outward evidence.]

You could find her one.

I wouldn't stop you.

[Clint is a good man. He's reliable, he's handsome, he's thoughtful, he's great in bed. He wouldn't have a difficult time finding someone to raise a child with him. White picket fence and a dog and two point four kids, cookouts on the weekends. He could have that kind of life. He'd be good at it.

He asked her for the baby. She gave it to him. That makes it his. Not hers. Even if it kills her a little every time it starts crying at the sight of her.]

[halfassed]

Tasha.

[He cuts her off. A little irritated. The baby stirs.]

She has one.

[unmakeme]

[This is what Clint doesn't get. She doesn't feel like a mother, she feels like an egg donor. He doesn't understand. How could he? He's a natural at this. From the second he picked up that baby, she belonged to him completely.]

I'm not.

She can't stand me.

[And as if on cue, the baby wakes up, turns her little head and sees Natasha, and starts crying. She winces, so slight no one else would notice it, and turns for the door.]

[halfassed]

[God damn it, he's tired of this. Just gonna step close and basically shove the child into her hands.]

I'm getting a cramp. Your turn.

[Yep, he's letting go. You gonna drop her, Tasha?]

[unmakeme]

[Of curse she's not going to drop her. She's got her held securely under the arms, but away from her body. Like she's afraid she'll explode. And the baby is still crying, though it's marginally softer now. Her tiny little arms straining toward Natasha while her face slowly turns red.]

Bullshit. I've seen you crouch on top of a belltower for days without moving. Take it back.

[A tiny frown, a hint of worry.]

I don't-- she's crying. She wants you. Make her stop.

[halfassed]

She's reaching to you.

[Pointing out that little detail. Don't mind him, he'll just go ahead and stretch his arms, like he actually does have a cramp. Totally too busy to hold a baby.]

C'mon, hold her closer. You have, like, natural pillows.

[This isn't a bad thing. He likes her natural pillows.]

[unmakeme]

[He hasn't had any interest in anything to do with her natural pillows since she had a baby. She's being replaced by another woman, and that other woman can't even talk. She always told herself that it was inevitable, so she shouldn't be surprised, but it still manages to sting.]

That's because she's facing me.

[Facing her with her tiny red cheeks shiny with tears and her little toothless mouth and her sad, imploring blue eyes.]

Clint. Please.

[There's something serious now, something very real in the way she's staring at the baby, something fragile and scared.]

Please make her stop crying.

[Nat can't do it. She can't take that risk. She's terrifies that if she actually holds her, actually makes an effort, that the baby will still be screaming for something else. And she's even more terrified that it won't.]

[halfassed]

[He twitches forward, so tempted to ease both of their distress in one stroke. But he's wanted to do this for weeks now, wanted to show Tasha that the kid doesn't hate her. The kid loves her.]

Just hold her. Tasha -- just try it. For me.

[Kind of underhanded, those last two words, but what he means to do is to make it safer for her. If she's trying it for him, then she's not trying it for herself, and it isn't as much of a risk.]

[unmakeme]

[That's fighting dirty, and she glares at him. And then the baby wails again, and she can't stand that noise. If she does this and it doesn't quiet, he'll take it. He has to.

It's still a risk. He doesn't understand it, and how could he? They don't talk about it. But one way or another, if she does this, she'll know. It won't be a question any more, she won't be able to justify each outcome in her mind depending on her current feelings. She will know, and things will change.]

Clint...

[But he's not moving. Her arms bend, slowly, mechanically, and she closes her eyes before the baby makes contact. She holds her breath and just stands there for a moment, ready to thrust the thing back at him when it doesn't quiet. And it doesn't, and something inside her breaks a little more. But before she can hand her back, the baby turns her head, snuffles against Nat's chest, and she stops screaming.]

She's-- [Quiet. Warm. Soft. Perfect.] Still crying.

[But her arm shifts, moving to cradle the fragile little body the way she's seen Clint do a hundred times.]

[halfassed]

[Fighting dirty, but it totally worked. It totally worked, even though for a half-second Clint's heart feels like it's about to fall through the floor when Natasha's expression drops the way it does. He shouldn't have underestimated how important a moment like this would be for her. That's his fault. She deserves better than that.]

She'll calm down.

[She's calming down already. Clint knew it! He knew the baby was wanting for something. And he knew that Natasha could be that something.]

[unmakeme]

let's take it to the sandbox

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