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Chapter Text

The six members of the team (except Thor, off at Jane's for the weekend), sat around the huge dinner table at the Tower.

"I'm telling you, he literally choked on his food and his buddy had to hit his back." Clint laughed, shaking his head.

"I mean, no one is saying Natasha ain't hot." Tony winked at the redhead, who only rolled her eyes.

"But nobody can make eating spaghetti look sexual. Like...It's not possible."

Clint huffed and smirked, sitting back in his seat. He looked over at the other men, eyebrow raised.

"I mean...with the sauce getting everywhere." Steve shrugged.

"Yeah...red sauce is not an attractive look." Bucky chimed in.

Bruce only shrugged.

Natasha and Clint exchanged looks before looking down at the plates of spaghetti they were eating.

"Natasha, dearest, would you please do the honors of proving these morons wrong." He gestured at the table.

Natasha was in sweatpants and one of Clint's old Shield Academy shirts, but she'd worked with even worse clothes.

The redhead sat straight, tilting her head to the side.

Her eyes were dark as looked them all in the eye, twirling pasta around her fork and lifting it to her mouth.

Her lips puckered slightly as she held onto the prongs with her teeth for just enough time.

She chewed slowly, eyes roaming around the five men, gaze hungry.

Once she'd swallowed, her tongue darted out and took an obscene amount of time licking any sauce away.

Clint grinned and leaned back in his seat, appraising the others.

Tony swallowed, adams apple bobbing, eyes glued on Natasha's mouth.

But she still wasn't done.

Her teeth bit into the flesh of her lower lip as her hand brushed her hair behind her shoulder, fingers trailing down the side of her neck.

"Uh..." Bucky stammered, eyes wide. "I stand corrected."

Natasha shot him a wink as she leaned back in her seat, performance over.

Steve chuckled, slightly uneasily, hand clutching Bucky's knee.

To Tony's right, Bruce looked flushed, tapping the side of his glass as he pulled his eyes away.

"Now tell me eating spaghetti can't be sexy." Clint grinned, throwing a casual arm around Natasha's shoulders.

The other four men just nodded or looked down at their plates.

"Being bi is fucking fantastic." Tony muttered, earning him a snack in the arm from Bruce.

"Don't worry boo, you're still my most handsomest man." Tony kissed his cheek, grinning.

"Not a word." Bruce muttered, shaking his head.

Natasha only smiled, almost shyly now, completely different to her show from a few moments ago.

"You have to teach me how to do that." Bucky grinned, glancing at a slightly red Steve.

Yeah, Steve would have no trouble watching Bucky eat like that.

"Anytime." The redhead chuckled.

"And me." Bruce chimed in.

Tony whooped and tugged Bruce into his side. "Now that I would love to see."

That would be very interesting.

Chapter Text

Natasha was still the main enigma around the newly reformed Avengers Tower.

Most of them were guarded, sure, but their emotions and actions were more easily understood and accessible.

Natasha was easily the most guarded, even after living with the others for about four months.

The first month after the New York invasion had been spent at Shield, seeing Clint through countless therapies and late nights.

When Tony had built up the tower and invited them all to live there, Clint had actually been the first to agree.

He'd convinced Natasha that Shield was driving him even more crazy, and that they'd still be close enough to HQ to check in almost every day.

Natasha went where Clint did so with one bag over her shoulder, they had moved into one of the many floors.

Tony had made a big deal of making them their own floors but more often than not, Clint or Natasha would gravitate towards the others floor.

They weren't exactly open about their relationship, but they didn't hide it either.

The others had soon come to realise that whether they were dating or not, they often came as a pair.

The two would spend time alone with the others but were generally more comfortable with the other there.

It had also taken Natasha a long time to get comfortable in the confines of the tower.

Usually everything she wore, even around Shield, wasn't exactly practical.

Her skin tight suit was used not only in fights or missions, but when she taught classes. It was her symbol and with her Black Widow belt cinched at her waist, she was always detectable.

It meant that she knew what she was talking about, she was in control, and she was not to be fucked around with.

None of the trainees knew that she was likely younger than most of them.

She held and carried herself in a very mature way, and the suit went a long way to accentuating the curves that no teenager would possess.

She was her most comfortable when she was with Clint, sometimes with Maria and Nick. She had been comfortable with Phil but...that didn't matter now.

With Clint, she was nowhere near as polished. She didn't put on a show for him.

In fact almost all of her casual, comfy clothes had once been Clint's.

She had grown more at ease wearing the clothes around the tower, but still wasn't completely there yet.

Clint helped as much as he could.

He would wear his rattiest pair of sweatpants, old shirts, often with holes in them, and always wore odd socks.

He kept his hair mussed, and if he couldn't be bothered to shave, he didn't.

Natasha wouldn't admit to anyone that he was still the most beautiful man she'd ever seen, stubble, holey shirts, awful fashion sense and all.

The five of them (Thor away on Asgard), had sat down for brunch together. Only brunch because Tony had decided sleep won over food.

Everyone was dressed casually, except Bruce who didn't seem to do casual unless it was jeans and a shirt.

Natasha wore a plain black sports bra, with comfy loose shorts, and one of Clint's infamous purple tees. It was almost twice her size and covered the shorts almost entirely. Clint wasn't a big man, but he liked his loose fitting clothes too.

It was sweltering, so most of them were walking around in sandals or flip flops or just bare footed.

It went a long way to ease Natasha's nerves.

She wasn't sure why she always had to feel so put together, even when eating breakfast in the comforts of her own home.

After brunch, Natasha and Clint offered to wash up, whilst Steve headed to the living room to draw and Bruce and Tony went down to the lab.

But washing up didn't always go well when Clint was involved. He was cheeky and playful, and something about the heat got him riled up even more.

Natasha really should have made him do the drying instead.

He started off flicking soap suds at Natasha, as she chuckled and hit him with the towel.

It soon escalated into both of them running around the kitchen, bowl of water in both their hands as they chased one another.

Clint got a good shot in, and water trickled down under Natasha's shirt, earning a squeal from the redhead at how cold it was.

She retaliated by giving a swift kick to his knee, knocking him onto his other knee. She grinned at him as she very slowly tilted the bowl over his head.

"Oh you are gonna pay for that, Nat." Clint jumped up and grabbed her hand, pulling her to him.

He leaned in, like he was about to kiss her, but instead pressed his fingers to her side, earning a breathless laugh.

Most of the time Natasha was very good at ignoring being tickled, but not when it was a surprise.

"Ah stop!" The redhead laughed, stumbling back against the wall.

Clint grinned and moved with her. "Why should I?"

The pair were interrupted by a purposely loud throat clearing.

Tony watched them from the doorway, eyebrow raised.

"Bruce wanted tea, boy am I glad I said I'd come get it." He chuckled, appraising the two wet spies and the sud covered floor.

"How old are you again?" Tony snorted, shaking his head.

Natasha's smile dropped and she said nothing as she took a step away from Clint. "I...I'll clean up later." She frowned, quickly darting out of the room.

Clint sighed and narrowed his gaze at Tony, who only held his hands up in surrender.

"Hey, I didn't say anything wrong."

Technically he hadn't, so Clint only nodded and moved to leave.

Tony's hand shot to grab the man's arm. Something had been gnawing at Tony's mind for a while and Natasha's reaction to his very innocent question had set off sparks.

"Clint, how old is she?" He asked quietly, seriously.

Tony had been one of the first members to meet Natasha, thanks to her pretending to be someone else to find out what was wrong with him.

He'd thought nothing of her age. Her information had said she was 26, and he'd believed it.

The clothes she wore, the make up she put on, the way she carried herself all seemed to add to 26 being a correct age.

But that had been over a year ago and he liked to think he was even more astute now then he was back then.

The first inkling of doubt had come soon before the New York battle.

When Fury had spread Coulson's card across the table, he had looked to Natasha.

Her eyes had been wide, her features open and vulnerable for only a moment, but he had seen it.

She had looked very much like a child in that moment, but a child who had already had so much loss that she was asking why again, why another death.

The next trickle had come after the battle.

Natasha had been trying to handle the death around them, had been trying to handle Clint and stop him spiralling further, and had been trying to assist in the clean up of New York, and find survivors.

She had worked for three straight days, barely stopping to eat or drink or rest.

Tony knew she was younger than him, but he doubted even with her experience he'd be able to do physical labour for that long at 27.

No one had been able to stop her.

It had been her body in the end that dictated when she stopped.

She'd saved countless people trapped in rubble and under buildings. But eventually sheer exhaustion and dehydration had won out.

One second she had been piling up rubble into a truck and the next she had collapsed.

Clint had been stuck at Shield medical and because the suit took the brunt of Tony's work, he was nowhere near as exhausted as Natasha.

He had seen the woman drop and had been the first one of them to reach her.

Tony hadn't hesitated in getting her to Shield medical.

She'd slept for more than half a day, an IV pumping her full of nutrients.

When Tony saw her next, she was laying in bed, fast asleep, any remaining make up, blood and grime wiped from her skin.

Dark circles highlighted her slanted cheekbones, and he was struck by how young and small she looked.

It reminded him of his times at MIT, working day and night on projects until he fell asleep at his desk.

He'd been 21, and whilst he still did that, he couldn't last anywhere near as long as he could back then.

There were other, smaller events, that all connected in his mind and lead to the idea that she was lying about her age.

Her pop culture references weren't too far from what she said her age was, but they were just late enough that something didn't make sense.

Some references could be explained away with the fact she didn't grow up with a tv or radio, but others couldn't.

Other things like crying at films, the jokes she made, how quick she was clapback at the politicians on the news.

The vulnerable moments she shared, usually after many a glass of vodka, were telling.

She never said outright she wasn't the age she said, but no one had ever outright asked her.

As Tony asked, Clint only raised an eyebrow. "You're asking the wrong person. I'm not going to betray her like that." The archer shrugged.

Tony nodded and stepped away. He had work to do.

It wouldn't be hard to hack into Shield, to access the real files. But he wouldn't do that.

He called a team meeting in an hour and headed back to the lab.

Clint warned Natasha that the question would finally be asked and to prepare herself.

She felt she was ready for it. 6 years difference wasn't a whole lot, but it would be a difference in their eyes she knew.

She would be seen as a child, not old enough to have the job she did. Not old enough to be part of the team.

"They won't think less of you, Nat. You've proved over and over again that you deserve to be part of the team. It doesn't matter how old you are." Clint said softly, squeezing her hands.

"Lets just get this over with." She sighed.

It was hardly a battle they were entering, but it felt pretty similar.

Natasha sat down and cleared her throat. "Okay. So I'm going to give you five minutes to ask the questions you want." She said simply.

Tony leaned back in his seat, humming. "Very generous, Romanoff. Okay, well, how old are you, really?"

Okay, no beating around the bush then.

"I am...twenty one. Twenty two next month." She said quietly.

Tony's eyebrows raised and he sat forward in his seat. "Damn." He muttered. She was a kid still.

Both Bruce and Steve looked shocked. 6 years difference didn't seem like a lot but in their job, it seemed insane to have someone that young do the job they did.

"How old were you when you joined Shield?" Bruce asked quietly, frowning.

"Sixteen. I spent two years training, then after my eighteenth birthday, I went on my first mission. That was nearly four years ago."

Steve swallowed hard, shaking his head. He thought he'd been young when he first tried to enrol in the army, but Natasha had him beat.

"Why lie about it?" He asked quietly. He knew why he'd lied about his state when he got rejected time after time but this was...somewhat different.

"Because I didn't want people looking at me like you're looking at me. Pitying me. Feeling sorry for me. Underestimating me. Thinking I can't do the job." She shrugged, hand still in Clint's.

"That's not-" Tony started.

"Isn't it? Cause I'm seeing a lot of pity on your faces. Yes, I was young when I joined, yes I'm still young now. But I left the Red Room when I was fifteen, if Clint hadn't brought me to Shield, frankly, I would be dead by now. The training I had, it wasn't something I could ever turn my back on. There was no normal life for me. This was it. Shield. This job. This life."

Bruce exhaled, nodding. "That's understandable. It seems young to us, but you were...a lot younger when this all began. The experiences you have had...they make you as a person."

Natasha nodded, grateful for the understanding he was offering her. "The way I present is important. I need people to take me seriously, to know I'm in charge. To know I can lead. If most of the trainees knew, they wouldn't see me the same. I'm younger than them, but telling them what to do? It's stupid, but it wouldn't fly with them." She shrugged.

Steve knew first-hand how people perceived someone younger. They were seen as less experienced, incompetent, they let emotions cloud their judgements.

But that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Her emotions after the battle, her determination had saved a lot of people.

Now that that was in the air, Tony had another question. "So are you and Legolas sleeping together?"

"Tony!" Bruce groaned, flushing.

The others only laughed.

"Looks like your five minutes is up. That's such a shame, I really wanted to answer that question." Natasha smirked.

"Don't worry, I'll figure it out." Tony grinned back.

"Took you long enough to figure this out." She fired back, openly smiling.

They hadn't reacted as she thought they would. They had accepted it and moved on.

She may have been twenty one but she'd been through and seen things those three times her age would never experience.

Her emotions could be a bad thing, but they were often a help rather than a hinderence.

She enjoyed stupid childish things like water fights and tickle attacks.

But she could also lead and give direction perfectly.

She could teach effortlessly and could outwin almost anyone at Shield in hand to hand fighting.

Natasha was an enigma, and her age did not dictate her life.

Even if Tony, the oldest of all of them (bar Thor), had took to calling her kiddo.

He'd regret that.

Chapter Text

Natasha wasn't entirely sure why the rest of the team thought she couldn't cook.

Maybe because the rest of them weren't exactly chefs in the kitchen.

Bruce was probably the best, but was more a baker than anything.

Steve and Bucky could cook some decent meals from their childhoods but trying to adapt them to the 21st century hadn't gone well.

Tony made excellent sandwiches and grilled cheeses but even Clint got tired of that much bread after a while.

And well...Clint could just about pour milk in his cereal without it being a disaster.

It was pizza night at the tower and Natasha had pretty much gotten sick of the New York pizza.

She'd used Jarvis to order a whole bunch on ingredients online and had roped Clint into helping her.

Making pizzas wasn't exactly cooking but Natasha liked the routine she got into even so.

Clint should never be let near an oven so she put him on chopping duty.

She knew what kind of toppings everyone preferred but other than that the rest of it was in her hands.

She hoped they'd like it.

Phil and her used to enjoy cooking together. They would make dinner for themselves and Clint, with Maria and Nick sometimes dropping by.

He'd taught her his mother's pizza sauce recipe and it was amazing.

So as she started to whip that up, Clint chopped up the veggies (for Bruce and Nat) and the various meats for everyone else.

Next, the pair set about making the pizza dough. Clint failed spectacularly at the throwing it in the air and spinning it, every damn time.

For a marksman and ex-circus carnie, he was very clumsy.

But still he loved to try and Nat liked to watch so she didn't mind if she had to make twice the dough because half of it ended up on the floor.

Everyone but the two of them were out of the tower for the day.

Bruce and Tony were at a science convention, Steve and Bucky were at the park.

Bucky had had a nightmare the night previous and had remembered a couple of things so they'd took the day to be together.

They'd all had a rough week of it and if all Natasha could do to help was to make dinner then that's what she'd do.

With the dough rolled out, she very neatly arranged all the toppings onto the sauce and cheese and put them in the oven.

Tony had invested in a double oven on the off chance they'd shove dinner in there instead of getting take out.

Natasha wiped down the sides, smirking at Clint as she reached over at pulled a lump of dough from his hair.

"You're a disaster." She chuckled.

"And you love me in spite of it."

"I guess I do." The redhead hummed. "Think you can manage getting plates out without dropping them?"

"I'm a spy." Clint huffed. "Of course I can."

"Sure, kotyonok." She said fondly.

Natasha messaged the others to let them know food would be ready soon and poured her and Clint a glass of super expensive wine Tony had gotten given as a gift.

Half an hour later, the pizzas were put out on the living room table, with various different drinks.

Steve and Bucky were the first to get there, hand in hand as they walked into the living room.

"Ooh, pizza!'' Bucky grinned, setting down the brown paper bag in his arms.

"Did you guys have a nice day?" The redhead asked, squeezing Bucky's shoulder.

"Very nice. We picked up lunch and ate on a blanket overlooking the lake. We watched the ducks for ages." Steve smiled.

Bucky gazed back over at him, just a little flushed.

Natasha snorted, eyebrow raised. "You also made out like teenagers on that blanket, didn't you?"

Steve chuckled. "Very much so."

Natasha grinned.

It was so nice to see them both so happy.

She hadn't seen Bucky smile quite like that in a very long time, maybe ever.

"Well, sit down. I'll grab you some drinks, what're we feeling like tonight boys?"

"Beer is good." Bucky hummed.

"I'll just grab a root beer." Steve couldn't get drunk, unless they had some of Thor's super powerful mead on hand, so why waste a beer?

The two sat next to each other, very close to each other in fact.

"We know you've had a bit of a bad week too." Bucky murmured, offering a smile. "So, me and Steve picked up your favourite."

He pulled out two pints of ice cream from the brown bags, one birthday cake and on red velvet, both from a fantastic family run ice cream shop down the street.

"Aw, boys, you shouldn't have." Natasha grinned. "No really though, thank you."

Clint placed the drinks down on the table and by that time, the remaining two guys had turned up.

Tony looked happy, the kind of happy that came from getting to look at all the new tech goodies at the convention.

Bruce looked happy but also tired. He didn't do crowds well.

"Just in time, sit down and grab a plate. Drinks?"

"Why Natasha, are you waiting on us?" Tony smirked, grabbing a plate and sitting down.

"Just for one drink." She raised an eyebrow again.

"Fair. Beer for me then." He hummed.

"Freshly brewed camomile." Clint popped a teapot down in front of Bruce.

Once they'd all sat down with their drinks, Natasha gestured at the table. "Dig in."

Tony virtually inhaled the first slice of his before pausing. "This is damn good, where did you order in from?"

Natasha blinked. "Oh...I didn't. I made it."

Bucky paused with the pizza half way to his mouth. "Damn, Talia, really? This is freaking amazing."

Natasha chuckled and looked down at her plate. "Thanks. Phil uh...Phil taught me the sauce recipe."

Clint rubbed her arm, kissing her shoulder.

"Its seriously good, Nat." Steve shook his head.

"Its like...better than the actual Italian pizza." Tony hummed.

"Laying it on a bit thick there, boys." Natasha chuckled.

"Well it is good." Bruce shrugged. "I had no idea you could cook."

The other three men hummed their agreement.

"You never asked." Natasha stuck her tongue out.

"Touche. Although you do realise we're not gonna be able to go back to take out pizza now, right?" Tony raised an eyebrow.

"You do realise I'm not your personal chef?" Natasha retorted, still smiling.

"Oh yes. But now you've revealed your secret." The man winked.

"It really isn't difficult to make pizza."

Steve pointed over at Clint. "Tell Barton that. He's the one who sets the kitchen on fire teaching Thor how to heat up poptarts."

"That was one time!" Clint pouted.

"And we're still dealing with the aftermath when Thor wants poptarts now." Bucky sniped.

Natasha grinned. "Aw, leave him alone. Drop it and maybe I'll make pizza once every couple of weeks."

"Deal." Tony grinned.

Chapter Text

They were Avengers.

They got hurt a lot.

Just last week Tony had gone down in the suit, broke some ribs, and had been in a lot of pain.

Tony wasn't super great with pain so after the initial shock and adrenaline had worn off, he'd had to be pumped full of painkillers to function normally.

He'd spent a couple days on the sofa, generally feeling sorry for himself and complaining to anyone who would listen.

Natasha wished she could be like that in front of the team.

Could admit her pain and wallow in it too.

But she wasn't wired that way.

So she was fighting, as she did, and it had long passed the time when she should have tapped out.

She was bleeding heavily from somewhere on her head and had at least one broken bone.

But she was managing.

She always did.

Her injuries didn't slow her down in the slightest, she kept bringing the guys down around her.

She hadn't called for back up because she hadn't needed it, but she estimated she had about 6 minutes before the rest of the team turned up anyway.

When they got there, the fight had just about finished.

Steve took the rest down as the group landed and Natasha wiped blood from her eyes, raising an eyebrow.

"Thanks." She said dryly, smiling.

"Yeah, you were helpless without us." Steve chucked, before taking her in.

"You look like crap."

"Language, Cap, mind your fucking language."

Clint snorted besides Steve, "nice one."

Bruce appraised her.

"What happened to you?"

The redhead shrugged. "It looks worse than it is."

"Lets get you home, and then we can see how bad it is." Bruce hummed.

Once home, Tony, still on bed rest, joined them in the med bay.

Natasha held a bandage to her head, attempting to stem the flow of blood from a gash across her eye.

Bruce clicked his tongue, sighing. "You'll need stitches."

"It's not that bad. Head wounds bleed more."

"I'm a doctor. I know that. You still need stitches."

Nat sighed and lay back on the bed, lifting the bandage away so Bruce could work on stitching the cut.

"You might want to get Jarvis to do a scan. Tash is notorious for not letting on when she's hurt bad." Clint leaned against the door frame.

Natasha growled. "I am not."

"Oh really? Then tell Bruce where you're hurt."

The redhead glowered at him. "My chest, right leg and left fingers. See?"

Clint only smirked.

"You're an asshole, Clint." She pouted, realising quickly that he'd tricked her.

"You'd do anything to prove me wrong." He shrugged.

Bruce sighed. "J, can you scan Natasha please."

Natasha looked uncomfortable and almost sheepish as the light moved up and down her body.

"Miss Romanoff has three broken ribs on the left side of her body, a right leg tibia fracture, three broken fingers on the left hand and a concussion."

"What the fuck, Natasha?" Tony exclaimed. "How in the hell are you not crying in a heap right now?"

Natasha shrugged, eyes downcast.

"I told ya she wasn't good at it."

Bruce sighed. "Natasha, you're hurt pretty damn badly. You need to tell us when you're injured."

The woman only shrugged again, missing the shock on her friends faces.

"I was floored by the broken ribs alone and you were fighting with all that going on?" Tony shook his head. "That's insane."

"I...I'm sorry. I just...I don't know how to...shit." Natasha grimaced, face paling.

Bruce quickly sat her up and shoved one of the throwaway basins under her chin, just in time for Natasha to throw up.

Clint was at her side in an instant, rubbing her back and whispering softly in Russian.

Natasha shuddered, clinging to the basin as she dry heaved.

Bruce looked worried as he slid the penlight from his pocket.

"Natasha, can you follow the light for me?"

She gritted her teeth as she dragged her gaze up, breathing hard.

"Well Jarvis was right, you definitely have a concussion. That might be why you're sick."

Natasha swallowed and exhaled shakily. "It's not that."

"Then what is it?" Clint asked softly.

"The...the pain." She muttered.

Bruce gently eased her back onto the pillows. "I can give you something. Non drowsy, I need you awake so I can monitor the concussion."

Natasha looked hesitant, wary even.

"Nat, if it's gonna help." Clint murmured. "You're not alone anymore. Take it."

Bruce busied himself with her vitals as they conversed.

High blood pressure, fast pulse, all consistent with a conclusion that she was in a lot of pain.

As the spies carried on talking, Bruce splinted her fingers, wrapped bandages around her ribs and set her leg in a temporary cast.

"Okay." Natasha said softly, leaning her cheek against Clint's shoulder. "I'll take something."

"I need you to be honest now." Bruce said quietly. "One a scale of one to ten, how bad is the pain?"

"It's..." Natasha sighed. "Its up there. Like...seven."

"What do you normally take when you're injured?"

"I...don't. Not unless it's really bad. If not, I'll take some aspirin and call it a day."

"Seven is pretty bad." Clint murmured.

Bruce nodded and turned to Tony. "Can you grab me the needle and IV kit?"

"Now, Nat, I'm gonna insert an IV, in case you're sick again. I can put in some pain and nausea meds. You're starting to show signs of the blood loss, but it's not extreme enough to warrant a transfusion. Some nutrients and sugar saline wouldn't hurt. That okay?"

Natasha hummed, teeth still gritted against the pain.

Tony came back and in seconds, Bruce had everything hooked up.

"You should rest for a little while. But I'll be back every half hour to check in and re-assess the concussion. We'll get an x-ray of your leg and figure out if we need to do anything more than a cast. Okay?"

Natasha's face had already smoothed out, teeth unclenched as she lay back.

"Mmhm."

Tony smiled form across the room. "We're broken rib buddies now, so don't go dying on me huh?"

Natasha only flipped him off with her uninjured hand.

"I want you to tell us when you're hurt next time, Natasha. Clint is right, you're not alone anymore." Steve said quietly.

"Rest, Natasha, I'll be in soon." Bruce murmured.

Clint climbed up onto the bed and wrapped an arm around his partner.

"I think you surprised them." He sighed, rubbing her arm. "You almost shocked me."

"I can't ever shock you." The redhead mumbled, eyes slipping shut.

"Nah, you're right. I know you too well. But they're starting to know you well too. Just you watch, one day you won't be able to shock them either."

"Shh." Natasha grumbled, cuddling into his side.

Clint chuckled.

"Sleep, red, I've got you."

Chapter Text

Natasha had witnessed a lot of death in her twenty three years, had wrought so much too.

But some things, some missions, some jobs were just so much more devastating.

All she knew was that there were bombs.

She didn't know where, how many, why.

The first had gone off in an apartment block downtown.

Police and bomb squads had been dispatched but it soon became clear that there were too many for all the force to handle.

So Shield had been called in, Natasha and Clint included, and The Avengers had followed.

Tony and Rhodey had taken to the skies, flying over New York and scanning every building as they passed.

When they found anything, the ground team would enter, disarm the bomb, and move to the next one.

Natasha, Clint, Maria Hill and Bucky had taken most of the leg work.

Steve had been in the army, sure, but he'd never disabled a bomb. So he was helping the injured and the trapped with Bruce, who had shifted into the Hulk and was helping to pull buildings off of people.

The four on the ground knew each step could be their last, but never once faltered in entering a building.

But things had shifted quickly. Tony and Rhodey had called out numerous sightings at once and they'd had to split.

A lot of New York had been evacuated, but there were places where a lot of people were trapped. Where they hadn't been able to get out in time.

There were too many bombs, too much carnage, and not enough of them to go around.

Natasha had followed Tony's directions, and found herself in front of a school.

She'd tiptoed into the crumbling building, praying to a god she didn't believe in that the place was empty.

It wasn't.

She spotted at least five faces, looking up at her, coated with dust and utterly terrified.

There was more than one body on the floor.

A woman, one of the only adults, clearly a teacher, lifeless eyes staring at nothing. A small body underneath her.

A sob drew her attention from the floor and Natasha scanned the room.

More dead.

They'd hidden under the tables when the collapse had started and some of them had been crushed under the weight of the ceiling.

Tony had said there was another bomb in this building and with the way the ceiling continued to fall, they didnt have a lot of time.

Those five faces looked up at her, all children, all so young.

"I'm here to help, I need you all to be brave." Natasha carefully stepped towards the children, some still hiding under the tables, some clinging to each other.

"I need you to stand up, all join hands, and very slowly walk over to me. I can get you home." She held out her hand.

"I'll protect you, but we need to move now." She took another step.

One child with watery brown eyes and long brown hair, stood.

Her dress was torn and her skin was coated with dust. Her voice wavered.

"I want to go home." She whispered.

"You will. Take your friends hand, come towards me."

Natasha didn't dare walk towards them, didn't dare upset the delicate balance of the room.

The brown haired girl took a shaky step forward, her eyes wet but her cheeks dry.

"Come on, Anna, we can go home." The girl very firmly stuck hand out and Anna, a small blonde haired girl, took it.

Slowly, the five of them joined hands.

"You're doing so well." Natasha breathed. "I know you're scared. Let's talk as we walk, hmm? Tell me your names."

The brunette at the front winced as they stepped around a fallen friend.

"I'm Molly." She whispered, jaw clenched.

"Anna." The blonde murmured.

Behind Anna was Jack then Emma, then Henry.

Emma was sobbing, her chest heaving as she fought to catch her breath in between sobs.

Natasha felt sick.

"Keep coming, you're nearly here, darlings. Just a couple more steps." Natasha soothed, arms held out.

When Molly reached her, Natasha held her arms around the five children, for just a moment.

"Ground team, this is Romanoff, I need whoever is closest to my location, to meet me. I have survivors."

Natasha took the hands of Molly and Henry and they walked, in a sort of semi circle, out into the fresh air.

She walked the children out of the danger zone and past the police tape and crouched down.

"I need you to wait here." Natasha said softly. "Do not move until an adult comes to get you. Okay?"

Molly sniffled and rubbed her eyes. "Okay."

Natasha nodded and stood, taking a step towards the building when a little hand touched hers.

"Thank you." Molly said softly.

"You're so strong, darling. I know you'll take good care of them until my friend gets here." Natasha brushed a thumb over her cheek.

"Now, sit with your friends. I'll be back out." She nodded.

Once Molly was back with the other four children, Natasha walked back into hell.

She carefully wound her way through the debris, kneeling and checking every single person for signs of life.

Natasha had gone past the point of feeling ill, and now numbly checked for pulses.

Teachers, covering their students.

Children caught as they tried to hide.

The monsters who caused this would pay dearly.

Natasha knelt to the second to last body, not expecting anything.

But the child was watching her, and whimpered as Natasha touched her.

Natasha snapped back to reality.

"Hey sweetheart, keep still for me. You're okay." She whispered, eyes scanning the little girls body.

She was bleeding from somewhere in her hair and her leg was stuck under a chunk of ceiling.

She was pale and breathing heavily, her eyes glazed and Natasha knew she was in shock, and the blood surrounded her leg bore bad news.

"You're okay." She whispered again, making a very fast decision.

The ceiling continued to fall and it was sheer luck that it hadn't triggered to bomb yet. They wouldn't be lucky for much longer.

She had to get the girl out, she had more chance of survival outside.

"Take a deep breath, sweetheart, scream and cry as much as you need. This is going to hurt but I promise you're okay. I've got you."

Natasha stood and moved to the debris crushing her leg and she got a good grip and pulled.

The girl screamed, the shrill sound echoing through what remained of the building.

By the time Natasha had gotten the debris off her, the girl had passed out.

Natasha felt sick as she saw the damage to her leg but she quickly bend and scooped the girl to her chest.

She would get the girl outside, come and check the last body.

But three things happened as Natasha stood.

One, the ceiling began to fall in chunks. Two, as the building fell, Natasha heard a beeping coming from close by. Three, through the smoke, Natasha saw the body on the floor move.

But then the beeping increased and Natasha had no choice but to run.

She had made it just outside the building before the explosion came.

Natasha bent, her whole body covering the girl on her grip.

A deafening noise filled her ears and white hot pain crawled up her back.

She screamed.

Her vision blurred as the noise around her died down.

For a moment, everything was dark.

She woke to a panicked cry of her voice, and agony searing her skin.

She lifted her head, her world off balance and sounding far away.

Bucky swam into focus and she had just enough presence of mind to remember the child.

She used all her energy to roll to the side, off of the girl.

More footsteps joined the noise and then Maria was there, kneeling at her side as Bucky took the girl she'd covered.

"Natasha?" A cold hand on her forehead.

"The girl." Natasha croaked, dragging her gaze to place she had been.

"Bucky took her." Maria frowned, pulling the woman up to meet her gaze. "Just now, remember?"

"The girl-" Natasha slurred, tipping forward as darkness came.

...

Natasha woke to a beeping.

Somewhat used to it, she didn't panic as she opened her eyes.

It took a moment for Natasha to remember what had happened but when she did, she sat upright.

She nudged to figure next to her, Clint, and he jerked up too, blinking.

"Nat, oh thank god." He sat beside her on the bed, cupping her face with his hands.

"The girl-" Natasha whispered, coughing to clear her throat.

"You saved her, Nat. If you hadn't covered her...you took the brunt of the impact." His gaze softened.

"I...What? What happened?" She frowned.

"When you got outside, the building came down. The debris, mixed with the explosion, did a lot of damage to your back. And you hit your head pretty hard. You're gonna be in pain for a little while, but you'll be okay." He took her hands and squeezed.

"You scared the life out of Buck and Maria." Clint murmured.

"What happened with the bombs? How long was I out?" She frowned. It was dark outside.

"We found the last couple of bombs, and Shield tracked down the people who set them. They're in custody now." A pause. "You've been out for about five hours."

"Shit." She murmured.

Then through the painful, drugged up haze, she remembered.

"Clean up." She looked up, eyes wide as she clambered out of the hospital bed.

She recognised it to be the Shield med bay and she walked quickly and with purpose to Fury's main meeting room.

She pushed through the door, Clint scrambling behind her.

Five pairs of eyes found her.

The pain took a back seat as she walked in and stood in front of Fury.

"Survivors, how many?" She asked.

Bucky, Steve, Bruce and Tony watched from their seats, looking sombre.

"89 so far." Nick sat back in his seat.

"Has clean up started on the school?"

"Nat." Clint said from behind her. "Clean up on the school is finished."

The redhead took a breath. "Apart from the six I got out, were there any survivors?"

Nick flicked through the documents and met her gaze before shaking his head.

The breath left Natasha and her legs faltered.

Clint grabbed her around the waist and they both landed on the floor.

"Natasha?" Clint touched her hair.

"Before the building came down..." She whispered, eyes glazed as she shifted closer to Clint.

"There was a child left, I hadn't checked to see if they were alive yet. But...I saw them move. And I had to run-" her breathing hitched and Clint silently pulled her to his chest.

"Natasha, you saved so many lives today. You saved those six children and got severely hurt in the process. You can't beat yourself up over this. You did your best."

"They were alive." She hiccuped, shoulders shaking but no tears coming. "I left them. I promised them all they would go home."

Clint kissed her hair, eyes distraught as he looked up at the faces of their friends.

They'd all had a hell of a day.

Bucky in particular, couldn't meet Clint's gaze, his jaw locked as he focused on the floor.

"You did everything you could." Clint murmured.

"The kid had a family. Parents. Friends." She whispered, shuddering. "A mom."

Clint closed his eyes, swallowing hard. Ah.

A knock at the door and Clint looked up as Maria walked in, a small hand in hers.

"Nat." Clint nudged her and her gaze lifted.

The shaking stopped and Natasha stood.

"Lila." She whispered, running over to the little girl and lifting her up, arms encircling her as she held her to her chest.

Clint joined them moments later, wrapping them both in his grip.

Four mouths opened around the table but the pair made no notice.

Bucky was the first to realise, because the little girl with red hair and dimples, looked just like little Natasha had.

But those eyes were undeniably Clint's.

Natasha was finally crying now and she cradled the girl, no older than two, tightly.

"Oh, Lila, I love you so much." Natasha breathed, pulling her face back so she could really make sure it was her daughter.

Lila giggled and pressed her little hand to Natasha's cheek and the redhead smiled.

"Momma an' dada." Lila grinned, small clumsy hands patting Natasha's face.

Clint kissed her hair. "Let's go back to your room." He murmured.

Natasha nodded, holding her daughter close to her chest, Clint close behind as they left the room.

Bucky frowned, looking up at Maria. "How? The procedure-"

"Clint's sister, Laura, was their surrogate." She said quietly. "She's one hundred percent Clint and Natasha's."

"The hair does give it away." Tony murmured.

"Doesn't it just?" Bucky smiled, shaking his head.

"That child is gonna be something else." Steve exhaled.

"Well she's going to have a lot of family around her." Fury spoke, at the head of the table.

"Why was it a secret?" Bruce asked quietly.

"They weren't ready." Maria shrugged. "Now they are."

Clint had asked Maria to bring Laura and Lila to the compound.

After hearing about how she was found, body curled over a little girl, injured and unconscious.

After hearing from the five other children, how kind she had been, how strong and gentle. How she'd given them the courage to get out.

After hearing about the bodies in the school, the children no one was able to save.

Clint knew it was time.

Natasha had known too, the moment she'd rushed to pick up her baby.

The time for secrets was over.

The time for healing was just beginning.

But as Natasha and Clint sat in bed that night, with Lila curled up asleep in between them, they knew they would get through it.

They always did.

Chapter Text

Natasha stood, casting her gaze around the grassy hills littered with bodies.

She slowly wiped a hand over her face, feeling the wetness of blood smearing over her cheek.

She took a deep breath, eyes watering a little as she took a shaky step.

Her foot hit something solid and she swallowed, carefully stepping around the body face down on the grass.

She checked her watch, taking another step until she found a patch of grass unmarred with blood, and sat down.

...

The Avengers got there four minutes later, the quinjet settling down on the grass.

They stepped out to find the mission already over before it had really began.

They spotted Natasha after a minute, her red hair blending with the blood staining the ground.

Clint touched the comms in his ear, telling Shield to send a clean up team as soon as possible.

He then carefully wound his way through the carnage, stepping around bodies, his shoes sliding a little in the blood.

The others watched from the ramp of the quinjet, exchanging glances as they watched Clint reach their friend.

He knelt, not touching her just yet.

"Natasha?" He asked softly, crouching into her line of sight.

The woman slowly lifted her head, blinking as she focused on her partner.

"Clint?" She frowned, lifting a hand to push stray red strands of hair from her forehead.

She only succeeded in wiping more blood over her pale skin.

"You with me, Nat?" Clint brushed back the strand of hair she'd been trying to get.

"I...not really?" Her brows were furrowed and her eyes glassy.

Clint unfolded his legs and reached for her hand, uncaring that blood now covered his own.

He quickly looked her over, determining if she needed medical or would be okay until he could ground her.

Through the layer of blood and grime, it was hard to see if she was bleeding at all.

"Are you hurt, love?" He squeezed her hand.

Natasha looked down at herself, blinking rapidly. "Not...really. 'S not my blood."

Clint nodded and scooted closer to her, one hand touching her jaw and making her look at him.

"Okay, you know the drill. Tell me who you are." He said softly, thumb brushing over her cheek.

"I'm...Natasha. Romanoff. Black Widow." Her voice shook and rose at the end, like her answers were questions.

"Yes, you are. Who are you not?"

Her gaze drifted and he tapped her cheek. "Eyes on me, Nat. Who are you not?"

"I'm not...Natalia. I'm not a puppet or a monster."

"Yes. You're Natasha Romanoff, you are not The Red Room's. You are your own." He hummed.

She nodded once, uncertain.

"Who am I?" His voice never wavered.

"C...Clint."

A nod.

"Yes, what else, Nat?"

"My husband." She swallowed, eyes a little clearer.

"Yes, sweetheart. Who am I not?"

"You're not...Dimitri. Not part of the Red Room." She said quietly, squeezing his hand back for the first time since they'd started talking.

"I'm not. Okay, nearly done. Where are we?"

"Russia." Her accent came through just a little. "The mission is over." A soft exhale. "Home?"

"Are you with me?" Clint asked.

The redhead nodded shakily. "I am."

"Then let's go home." He slid his arm around her waist and hefted them both up.

They slowly headed to the quinjet, and as they walked up the ramp, Bucky, Steve, Tony and Bruce followed.

Clint got Natasha seated and tried his best using wet wipes and water from their bottles to rinse off the first layer of blood.

It turned out that some of the blood had been hers, but not a whole lot of it.

Clint wiped around the wounds as best as he could and then moved to the med kit.

Bruce could have handled it, but Natasha didn't seem to want Clint out of her sight and they'd patched each other up hundreds of times.

Four sets of stitches later, Clint pressed an ice pack to the back of Natasha's head and helped her lift her feet up onto another seat.

Bruce shook an ice pack and settled that one over her swollen left ankle, gently testing the foot and finding that it seemed sprained.

Of course, Natasha was notorious for not realising how bad her injures were so scans would be needed when they touched down.

But for now, Natasha closed her eyes, face against Clint's shoulder, her thoughts on their daughter as she drifted.

...

She awoke to a soft thrum of voices but made no move to sit up or even open her eyes; she was warm, everything ached and she could tell they were still in the air.

Her teammates spoke softly about what they'd seen and what they hadn't been able to see.

Natasha was surprised to hear the easy way they spoke about the bodies and death she had wrought.

They didn't seem shocked that she had taken out so many men in so little time.

She'd gotten there only thirty minutes before the rest of the team, and had taken down more than forty enemies.

Natasha was curious now though. Why weren't they shocked? Any normal person would not have been able to do that and come out relatively unscathed.

She forced her tired eyes open and the chatter stopped.

Clearing her throat but not moving from her warm spot against Clint, Natasha looked around at her friends.

"You're not surprised." She said quietly. "Why?"

Bucky was the first to answer. "Because...we know you. I've known you for...well, a very long time. I helped...train you." He winced, swallowing. "Anybody who makes it out of the Red Room alive is deadly."

Natasha shrugged. They had both made it out alive. So she knew he wasn't saying what he was to remind her of their terror, he was just reminding her that he too was deadly.

"We've seen you fight, Tash. You're...a force to be reckoned with." Bruce said softly. "But the thing is...we all are. Or we wouldn't be doing what we do. We kill like it's our job and...it kinda is." He shrugged.

Steve tried to smile at her but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "I was in the war." He said quietly, and really, that was all he needed to say.

"I made machines that killed hundreds of people." Tony looked up from his gaze on the floor.

"You already know what I've done." Clint murmured against her ear, brushing hair off her cheek. "Like Bruce said, it's what we do."

"Isn't that fucked up though?" Natasha sighed, rubbing at her forehead as pain flared behind her eyes.

"Isn't it fucked up that you found me literally sitting in the middle of a graveyard, covered head to toe in blood, and nothing about it shocked any of you?"

Bucky sat back in his seat. "Yeah, it's sure as hell fucked up, Nat." He hummed.

"But you know, we've all seen and dealt a lot of death in our lives. Yeah, it would be shocking for anyone else to understand the damage and the chaos and the death but...it's us. We know because we've been there and because...because we will be there again." The man sighed.

"Are we really that fucked up that death doesn't shock us anymore?" Natasha asked, shaking her head.

Clint tutted. "Nat, you know that's not true." He murmured. "Just because none of us are surprised at our ability to kill anymore, doesn't mean we're fucked up. Or that it doesn't affect us." He trailed his fingers down her arm.

"Death matters to all of us." Tony said quietly. "Sometimes it makes us not sleep at night, sometimes we get numb because of it, sometimes our minds take us back there. It bothers us all, Nat, 'cause we're human. But it is what we do. So we do it and then we find a way to live with it."

Natasha was growing more tired by the minute as Clint continued the soothing trailing of fingers down her skin.

"Well either we're all used to death now or you guys just finally can't be shocked by anything I do anymore." She chuckled and like a snap of fingers, the tension dropped.

Steve laughed. "Maybe you're right, Romanoff. Maybe we just know you too well now."

Bruce grinned. "Not such a secret secret spy anymore, are you Nat?"

"Shut up." Natasha said fondly, feeling her eyes close against her will.

"They'll always be something to shock you guys with, it's just too easy." She laughed, warmth settling in her chest. They did know her.

"Is that a challenge?" Clint murmured softly against her hair.

Natasha hummed.

"You bet it is."