Work Text:
Darcy doesn’t want to be a mom, not right now anyway. She wants a family, sure, but in like ten years.
She’s on the couch in the common room, toying with a white plastic stick in her hands.
Clint and Natasha walk in from a work-out, laughing and relaxed; that all stops when they spot her.
“Darcy, did you need something?”
She's not paying attention to who says it, she's tapping the white stick on her fingers, trying to figure out what words to use.
There really is no easy way to say, there was an accident when we all, during the, um, sex, and I’m, um, pregnant. Other than just opening your mouth and saying, “There was an accident when we all, during the, um, sex, and I’m, um, pregnant.”
They look at her, faces cold and emotionless, clinical and assessing; they’re assassins now, calculating the damage, the options, the consequences.
“What are you going to do?” Natasha asks.
Darcy shrugs, because she hadn’t made up her mind, it’s a lot to take in.
And that question, What am I going to do?, it’s been whirling in her head since the plus sign appeared on the little white stick.
Would she keep it?
Run away?
Give it up?
Have an abortion and not tell anyone, ever?
Go to a clinic where it will never appear on her medical records?
Lie for the rest of her life during the 'have you ever been pregnant' portion of the annual pap-smear?
But this was S.H.E.I.L.D., how would she hid that from them?
That would mean telling . . . admitting. Shit.
How would she tell Clint?
Should she tell Clint?
What about Natasha?
Well, the last two wouldn’t plague her anymore.
But still.
Had she done the right thing?
She could have invented a guy. Some one night stand. Never to be heard from again.
Should have invented a guy.
Too late for that now.
Fuck.
Would they hate her?
Call her irresponsible?
Tell other people?
Oh god, was she going to lose her job?
“Darcy.” Natasha’s voice, monotone and emotionless, breaks Darcy from her thoughts.
She looks up and they’re staring at her, waiting.
Darcy took a breath, tried to calm her nerves, and then spoke, “It’s as much Clint’s as it is mine, I guess. So, uh, I thought I’d ask his opinion?”
Clint and Natasha share a look. A whole conversation in short, silent seconds.
Darcy stands, ready to bolt as soon as they tell her what a horrible person she is when Clint meets her eyes, and she can see a flicker of hope that stills her as much as it confuses her.
“If I asked you to, would you keep it?” He glances at Natasha, taking her hand, before looking back at Darcy, “Would you keep it for us?”
Darcy’s gaze wavered, shifting from Clint to Natasha who stood ramrod straight with tears in her eyes, but not falling, never falling.
“I can’t have children.” Natasha said, her voice matter of fact, her face solemn.
She doesn't elaborate. Doesn't have to. Darcy's seen her file. And they all know about the Red Room.
“I can’t tell you what to do. I would never . . . ,” Clint stops, closes his eyes, takes a breath, opens his eyes and starts again, “I can only ask you, will you carry this for us, as our surrogate?”
Darcy’s breath caught, her world spun and she froze. This was not how they were supposed to react, this was so very far from anything she’d imagined.
And yet . . .
“Please?” Natasha whispered, and for a brief second became not an assassin, not a seductress, just a woman who wanted children and couldn’t have them.
Darcy couldn’t trust her voice, and she didn’t want to start crying and have them think she was sad, or that she was saying yes against her will, so she just nodded. Because really, it was perfect, they were her friends and she loved them and of course she would do this for them.
How could she not?
Natasha warily closed the space between them, as though getting too close too fast would change Darcy’s mind. Darcy reached for her, took her hand and placed it just over her lower abdomen, a shy smile on her lips.
Natasha knelt, her face level with their joined hands, she looked up at Darcy who nodded again, smile growing wider, and Natasha smiled back.
For the first and only time in her life Darcy saw Natasha cry as she whispered, “Hi. I’m your mom.”