FIC: Baby It's Cold Outside (for hufflepuffsneak) - NC-17
Title: Baby it's cold outside
Author: pixiesio
A Gift For: hufflepuffsneak
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: angst, sex
Pairings: Clint/Natasha
Summary/Prompt Used: Clint and Natasha go to steal some weapons only to come out with something infinitely more precious.
Authors Notes: This wasn't even remotely the original fic I was going to write, but then this little AU nugget popped into my head and demanded to be written, so I went with it. Hope you enjoy it! :-D Thanks to sjhw_tolerance for beta-ing.
Banner by frea_o
Natasha Romanoff sat in the driver's seat of her van, her “partner in crime” Clint Barton beside her in the passenger seat. They were on a job to procure a weapons cache and sat waiting in the darkness outside a single-storey warehouse in East LA, watching for the last of the men inside the building to leave.
Natasha pulled her Glock out of its shoulder holster under her black leather jacket. She checked the clip in the weapon, more out of boredom than need since she knew it was full. They had been waiting for hours to make their move, but the guys who were working this warehouse were definitely taking their time in getting out of the place.
“There we go, last one out turns out the lights,” Clint commented quietly with a touch of sarcasm.
She looked up from what she was doing and saw the lights were indeed out inside the warehouse and the last truck was pulling out of the lot.
“Finally,” she muttered. She slid the clip back in before slipping the weapon back into its holster and zipping up her jacket.
They waited a couple more minutes just to be sure no one was coming back, and then they pulled on their black balaclavas before slipping out of the van. Following their plan they walked toward the back of the van and pulled out the tools they needed: a pressure washer, goggles, sledgehammers, and video feed blocker.
They made their way around to the back of the building, avoiding cameras while they set up the appropriate frequency to block the feed.
Finally at the back of the warehouse, they walked over to the where they’d determined during a preliminary recon was the weaker part of the stucco and wood structure. Normally they’d just break in through a back door, but for some unknown reason the building only had the one set of doors at the front facing the street.
They slipped on their goggles and began the work of breaking through the wall, Clint first using the specially designed pressure washer to wear down and cut through the stucco. Once they had an outline large enough to fit the small forklift that they knew was in the building, they picked up the sledgehammers and bashed in the remaining stucco followed by the wood behind it. It took them the better part of fifteen minutes taking turns to finish. They took off their goggles and wiped off the dust and pieces of wood that had landed on them. As they cleaned themselves off, they kicked and pushed any of the debris out of the way of their newly created door.
Natasha entered the warehouse first, Clint right behind her. They were alert, but they knew there was no surveillance inside the building.
She glanced around the darkened building, letting her eyes adjust to the lower lighting. She moved toward her destination, the blocked off room she knew was to her right, but paused when she heard a noise from the room to her left.
Natasha glanced back at Clint and asked, “Did you hear that?”
He shook his head. “What did you hear?”
“A noise, like something got knocked over in that room,” she told him, pointing to the wall on their left.
They stood quietly for a few seconds, but heard nothing. Natasha shook her head. “I must be hearing things,” she stated.
“Maybe it’s ghosts,” Clint teased.
She rolled her eyes at him even though she was sure he didn’t see it.
They started to walk again toward the other room’s door when a loud banging came from the room to the left, and then what sounded like a child’s cry, which was quickly silenced. They looked at each other and without a word drew their weapons. They walked as one, checking for any other surprises in the few feet to the door of the room. Standing in front of the door they noticed what looked to be a stream of light coming from under it.
Natasha signalled to Clint to try the door, and while he moved to turn the handle she kept her weapon trained on the door. The handle didn’t budge and he stepped back. He signalled that he was going to kick in the door, so Natasha crouched, knowing he’d go in high while she went in low.
He counted down silently from three with his fingers and then kicked at the area near the handle. The flimsy door easily fell in and they rushed into the dimly lit room at the ready.
They were surprised to see about a dozen somewhat dishevelled Hispanic-looking young men and women, maybe between the ages of 18 and 25. The group cowered together near the middle of the room against some packing crates. All their expressions made it clear they were fearful of what Clint and Natasha were going to do.
Recognizing that these people weren’t an immediate threat, both Clint and Natasha held up their hands, pointing their guns away from the others before carefully returning the weapons to their holsters. They then pulled off their balaclavas to show their faces.
The others appeared to relax some at the gesture, but all eyes were still on alert, which Natasha could understand. If a couple of people came crashing into somewhere she was hiding, guns drawn, she’d be leery of why they were there, even if they did stand down. Of course if that happened to her she’d most likely shoot them.
“What are you doing here?” Natasha asked the others in Spanish.
A tall, well-built man stepped up from the front of the group. “We’re here to work. What are you doing here?” he questioned, also in Spanish.
Natasha sighed and glanced over at Clint who didn’t understand Spanish. “He says they’re here to work. Looks like we stumbled on a human smuggling ring.”
Clint swore quietly. “What are we going to do about this?”
She shrugged. “We don’t have to do anything. The door’s open,” she commented, nodding toward the broken door.
“You’re getting soft, Tasha,” he said, giving her an affectionate smile.
Natasha snorted, but she couldn’t stop herself from returning his infectious smile. “I’ll let them know they’re free to go; you go to the other room and get started on moving the weapons.”
Clint nodded, his expression all business again. He jogged from the room, but then he was back seconds later.
“The building’s on fire,” he told her, his tone measured but urgent.
She stared at him incredulously and pushed past him to see for herself. The right side of the building was indeed alight with fire, and it was swiftly moving toward the room where the weapons were being housed. She swore loudly and ran back to the room.
“Everybody out!” Natasha yelled. “Now!” she added when the others stood there frozen.
Clint and Natasha quickly ushered the group out as they finally moved to leave. One woman though was resisting, but the man beside her dragged her along with the rest of them.
“I need to get her,” the young woman cried.
“Leave it; it’s been nothing but trouble,” he responded harshly.
She ignored him and actually managed to break free of the man’s grasp, trying to go back to the crates, but the man grabbed her roughly by the arm and dragged her out of the room.
With everyone out and smoke starting to cloud the air, Clint and Natasha went to leave, but before they got far they heard a child’s cry once again. They paused, and then were distracted by the first bit of weaponry exploding from the room opposite. They instinctively ducked and covered, but the debris didn’t get as far as them.
“We need to get out of here!” she yelled over the sounds of the fire and the now louder cries coming from the room behind them.
“I know, but there’s a kid still in there. We have to try to find it,” he responded equally loudly, his expression pleading.
Natasha was in no mood to argue with him right now, so she relented. “Quick search, but no more than a minute because the next explosion from that room may not be so small,” she said, coughing.
They returned to the room, and Natasha decided to go for the crates since the young woman had been so eager to go back there; maybe she was the mother of the child. As she rounded the stack of crates she found a baby, maybe no more than six months old, lying on the ground in a dirty pink blanket and wailing for all she was worth. Natasha picked her up and held her close in attempt to protect her from the smoke as she headed back to the exit.
She met up with Clint by the door and he looked surprised at the bundle she held in her arms. He said nothing, simply putting a protective arm around Natasha, leading her and the baby out of the smoke-filled building.
Once outside, they weren’t surprised to see that the others were long gone. They moved away from the burning warehouse and made their way to their van. They leaned against it for support and protection from the fire and random explosions coming from the building, taking in as much fresh air as they could.
Finally catching her breath again, Natasha felt frustrated as the baby continued to cry in her arms and no matter how much she attempted to shush the child, she wouldn’t calm down.
“Here, let me try,” Clint suggested, holding out his arms. Natasha gladly handed the child over to him.
He took hold of the baby and adjusted the way she was laying in his arms until she was properly cradled. He rocked back and forth on his feet and hummed a tune, and within a couple of minutes the baby had calmed down.
Natasha couldn't hide her amazement at the ease in which he'd done that. Clint caught the look on her face and smiled.
“What can I say, the ladies like me,” he joked.
She laughed and shook her head at his light attitude. Leave it to Clint to find the humour in this situation.
It wasn’t long until they heard sirens in the distance, meaning EMS was on its way.
“We have to go,” Clint stated and moved to get in the van, but Natasha placed a hand on his arm, stopping him.
“What are you doing?” she asked. “We can't take the baby with us.”
He frowned at her. “What else are we going to do? We can't just leave her here.”
She glanced around to see if there was somewhere to leave the child safely, but every building nearby was not much better than the next. As cold-hearted as she liked to present herself to others, Natasha knew she couldn't leave an innocent child out in the world to chance. That and the sound of sirens getting closer made her decision for her.
“Fine, get in before we have to answer questions we don't want to.”
She pressed the unlock button on the key ring, opening the door for Clint and quickly helping him buckle in while he held the baby. She ran around to the other side of the van and got into the driver's seat, starting up the engine. They drove away from the now-exploding inferno of a building and about a mile down the street they passed the EMS coming from the other direction.
Once all the trucks and cars had passed them, Natasha let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding. She glanced over at Clint who was also looking relieved as he gently rocked the baby in his arms. She returned her gaze to the road, refocusing herself on what was their next step now that the job had gone south.
*~*
Natasha parked the van several streets away and without a word she and Clint got out. While Clint walked away from it and called for a cab on his cell, Natasha stayed behind for a few minutes to take care of the necessary torching before catching up with him.
As they walked silently to the street Clint had asked to be picked up at, they both kept on alert for any potential trouble a couple with a baby might attract. Fortunately very few people seemed to be out at this time of the night, and none who were appeared to want to cause trouble for them. Of course this might have been because of Natasha's steely expression that told anyone who saw it not to fuck with her.
He took a moment to steal a glance at the baby in his arms. He adjusted the blanket over her head to keep her warm and felt what seemed to be a tag of some sort. Curious, he turned up the blanket and saw that a word had been sewn into it: Maya.
Either that was the name of the baby or the woman who made the blanket, but either way Clint decided to call the child by that name from now on. It was better than always referring to her as “the baby” or “the child”.
Maya was awake, but still surprisingly quiet. Her brown eyes stared up at him and she gave him what he interpreted as a smile, but for all he knew it was simply gas. All the same, he felt a surge of affection and protectiveness for this helpless being. He knew what it was like to lose your parents and be basically abandoned. Sure he'd had his brother, but despite having him there with him, in certain situations there was just no replacing simple things like a parent's embrace.
Clint and Natasha got to the cross street and waited around another five minutes for the cab to arrive. Other than telling the driver where they were going, neither spoke the whole ride back to the apartment building, seemingly lost in thought.
Around thirty minutes later they arrived, paid the cabbie and got out. They entered the building and made their way to their apartment. Natasha let them in and closed the door once Clint was in with the baby. He started to walk toward the bathroom to get himself and the baby cleaned up when Natasha finally spoke.
“We can't keep her,” she stated matter-of-factly.
He stopped and turned to face her, frowning and feeling defensive. “I'm not leaving her on some doorstep in the middle of the night,” he stated, his voice betraying emotions that went deeper than this situation.
Natasha sighed, crossing her arms in front of her in her own defensive posture. She went to speak again, but his heightened emotional state made him not want to listen to her right now.
“Can you at least get some formula and bottles for her; she probably hasn't been fed in a while. I'll take care of cleaning her up.”
She opened her mouth, about to say something, but seemed to think differently as she appeared to gauge him. She, more than anyone, knew him inside and out, and she knew when to fight him on something and when to step back. She seemed to mentally step back in this case.
“Fine. I'll be back in a little while,” she stated evenly, but Clint could tell she wasn't entirely happy, and probably wouldn't be until they'd talked this out fully.
Natasha turned on her heel and left the apartment, leaving him to Maya.
*~*
Natasha let out a deep breath as she walked out of the building, attempting to calm the emotions that were trying to get the better of her. Clint was always the more emotional one in their partnership, personally and professionally, and it wouldn't do for her to get swept up along with him. There were moments when it worked for them, but in this case they had to be logical.
She shook her head and turned to her right, heading in the direction of where she'd remembered seeing a small market one day while out on a run. She knew that part of why Clint was fighting to hold onto the child had to do with his own childhood and abandonment issues, and she understood them all too well. She had her fair share of those similar issues having been taken from her family as a small child and being made to believe that they no longer wanted her. Years after breaking free from the Red Room she'd found out that her father was the only one who had fought to keep her at home, but in the end even he had relented. Not that he probably had much choice considering how far and deep the Red Room ran in the now former Soviet Union, but it didn't hurt any less.
Natasha arrived at a bodega a few streets over from their building and entered in search of the formula she hoped they'd have. She walked down the aisle that listed baby products and found three different brands on the shelf. She grabbed a container of each one, not particularly wanting to make a decision on this, and then snagged a couple of baby bottles from the shelf below. She simply wanted to get home, clean up and get some sleep.
The cashier looked at her oddly when she put the three containers on the counter, but she smartly said nothing beyond quoting her total. Natasha paid the middle-aged woman, bagged her purchases and quickly left the store to make her way home.
Back at the apartment she let herself in and saw that Clint and the baby were nowhere in sight. She heard his voice coming from the bedroom, and she guessed he was going to sleep in there with the baby. She walked into the kitchen and left the bag on the counter, foregoing stripping off her clothes in the bedroom and instead heading for the bathroom to clean up the grime of their fruitless evening.
Once done with her shower, she gathered up her dirty clothes and walked naked to the bedroom to find a tank top and shorts to wear, as well as a pillow and a blanket since she planned to sleep on the couch. She passed Clint who was coming out of the bedroom, a sling hanging around his neck that was holding the baby which left his arms free. Natasha didn't miss the admiring look in his eyes as they travelled over her nude body, but she ignored him as she was in no mood to flirt right now.
“Formula is in the kitchen,” she told him over her shoulder.
She was glad when he didn't follow her into the bedroom and instead moved off to the kitchen. She pulled on her clothes and grabbed her pillow from the bed before dragging a blanket out of the closet.
Ready for bed, she headed back to the living room and set herself up on the couch. She turned out the light next to the seat and slid under the blanket, laying her head on the pillow while holding it between her arms.
Natasha closed her eyes, attempting to block out the noise of Clint puttering around the kitchen. Eventually exhaustion took over and she dozed off.
What seemed like seconds later she woke again. She slowly opened her eyes and saw that all lights were out except for a dim light coming from the open bedroom door. She sat up on the couch and looked at the clock hanging on the wall; an hour had passed since she'd crawled under her blanket.
Natasha lay back on the couch, groaning quietly. While the couch was comfortable enough, it was not her bed. And as much as she hated to say it, even to herself, she missed having Clint beside her. She always slept better when he was near.
Of course it didn't help that they were arguing over the fate of the baby.
As if the child had heard her last thought, Natasha heard a short cry emit from the bedroom before Clint's voice quietly shushed the baby. She lay there, staring at the ceiling, and listened to him quietly start singing what she assumed was a lullaby.
After a few minutes she got up and wandered to the kitchen, getting herself a glass of water. She sipped at it as she walked back in the direction of the couch, but decided she wasn't ready to lie down again. She instead moved toward the bedroom door and stopped there, looking in without being seen by Clint. He was lying on his side, his hand resting on the baby's belly rubbing it in a comforting motion. His expression while he sang to the child was an affectionate one she knew well, and it worried her. It meant he was getting attached to the baby.
But mixed with the worry was a certain amount of sadness, for him and her both. This child was not only a reminder of their own abandoned childhoods, but also the lack of something they both never overtly discussed: having a family. Sure they had each other, and most days that was more than good enough, but the arrival of this baby in their lives just drove home all the more for her what she couldn't give him.
Natasha shook her head as if to shake the gloomy thoughts away. She backed out of the door and returned to the couch, not wanting to ruin this happy moment he was having. She could at least allow him that.
*~*
Clint woke up at the sound of Natasha moving around in the kitchen. Baby Maya was awake beside him making quiet lip-smacking noises that made him think she was hungry.
He sat up and slid off the bed. Once upright he picked up Maya and cradled her in his arms, talking softly to her as he headed for the kitchen. He decided to forego the sling again; it had been a hindrance more than a help.
When he got to the kitchen he didn’t miss how out of sorts Natasha looked, but once she appeared to realize he was standing there, she forced a smile on her lips.
“Sleep well?” she asked lightly.
Her faking of a light tone was so obvious it actually pained him. He knew she didn’t agree with holding onto the baby, but he hadn’t been about to leave the child on some doorstep late at night. He knew what it was like to be abandoned and he would not allow that to happen to another child.
“I got a couple of hours. You?” he questioned as he walked past her toward the fridge. Careful not to jostle the baby, he managed to open the door, pulling out the formula container he’d left there last night and hip-checking the door closed again. He moved to get the spare bottle that had been sitting in the drying rack only to be surprised by Natasha reaching around him to take the formula from his hand. He turned to face her and watched while she walked to the island, reading the label on the bottle. Once at the island she picked up the spare bottle and poured in the formula.
“Yeah, maybe a couple of hours too,” she replied, sounding tired. He had the urge to place a comforting hand on her shoulder, but the tension in her body gave him pause.
Clint watched her move to the stove, pulling out a pot and filling it with water from the tap before returning to the stove. She stood there, staring at the water in the pot as it slowly heated and seeming like she wanted to say something but was unsure as to how to say it. He was pretty sure he knew what it was, and as much as he loved having the baby, logically he knew she wasn’t theirs to keep.
“We should look for a respectable orphanage or church where we can bring her,” he stated, pre-empting what appeared to be a difficult subject for her to broach with him.
Natasha looked up from the pot at him, her expression relieved and then conciliatory. She turned fully to look at him, leaning against the counter and giving him a small smile. “I’m sure there’s somewhere that can take care of her until her parents find her or they find the parents.”
Clint nodded, understanding the unsaid comment of “they can take care of her better than we can,” and he knew she was right. Sure they could look for the parents, but their lives were not exactly “Leave it to Beaver,” so keeping Maya with them wouldn’t be logical. She needed somewhere that was much better equipped to handle a baby.
“We can do some research after breakfast,” she told him, giving his left arm a squeeze.
She turned back to the stove as the water started to boil and continued preparing the bottle. He left the kitchen, walking to the couch and sat down, gently rocking the baby while they waited for the bottle to be ready.
Maya got her breakfast, and then she was put down for a nap. Clint and Natasha grabbed a quick bite and a couple of cups of coffee while they did their research. During that time, they found out from a local article online that police had already been aware of the warehouse being part of a smuggling ring, and most likely the men running it had found out the cops were on to them, explaining the burning down of the building.
After a couple of hours of searching and calls to reliable sources, they found Resurrection Church in East LA that was very highly regarded. Their decision made, Clint typed up a quick note with information on where Maya had been found in hopes this would help them find the parents.
Because they were in a mission mindset, they both dressed all in black: Clint was in jeans, a t-shirt, and a sweater; Natasha was in jeans with a mid-thigh length sweater over top. They fed and changed Maya one last time before heading out for the church shortly after four o’clock. Mass started at five o’clock, and they planned to arrive at the church shortly after the service had started.
Close to five thirty they drove up on the street behind the church, wanting to avoid the possibility of getting caught up with the cars in the parking lot. They got out of the van and made their way with the baby toward the building. Fortunately because of the time of year it got darker earlier, so they were able to keep to shadows and out of sight of any cameras for the most part, but the parking lot was fairly well lit. Because of this they did their best to hide their faces as they walked toward the back door of the church.
Natasha pulled open the heavy door for Clint, and both were reassured to hear the sound of several voices singing coming from within the building. Luckily for them no one seemed to be in the entrance area, so they made their way quietly toward the back pews. There weren’t many pews, but most people were nearer the front of the room and they were preoccupied with what the priest was doing while they sang. This allowed Clint and Natasha to come in unseen with Maya and stop at the back pews.
Clint looked down at the baby in his arms and she smiled up at him. For just a moment he hesitated, but when he felt Natasha’s hand on his arm, he took a deep breath and placed a soft kiss on the baby’s forehead before he laid her small form safely on the pew. His shoulders slightly slumped in defeat, he took the note out of his pocket and put it near her. Natasha surprised him by reaching down and gently caressing Maya’s head before she pulled back.
He glanced at her and saw a brief flicker of sadness before her mask came down. She gave him a tight smile before nodding toward the back doors of the building. Clint nodded, and then glanced at the baby one last time to make sure she was fine where she was.
Certain Maya would be fine for what he was sure the few minutes until she was found, Clint turned away and walked toward the exit. They were barely five steps away from the pew when the baby began to cry quietly, and this made him pause. Natasha had heard it as well and had stopped too, but she turned quickly to grab hold of his arm, giving him a look that told him he was not to go back. It pained him not to go and he hesitated a little, but when Natasha was determined she was a lot stronger than most would think. She kept a firm hold on his arm and pulled him with her to head back to the entrance hall.
As they just got into the entrance hall, Maya then started to cry even louder and Clint made them stop.
“We can’t go back,” Natasha whispered loudly, her tone a mix of resolution and pain.
He clenched his jaw and glanced back, holding back tears that threatened to fall. He was worried Maya would work herself up and roll off the pew, so he turned back toward the main room of the church as if he was going to go back in. He didn’t go far before the singing stopped and people started to turn to look at the back of the church.
Natasha pulled him aside near the back doors to the main room, allowing them to see in but not be seen.
They watched as several of the parishioners left their seats and made their way to the back pews. A young Hispanic woman was the first to find Maya and she let out a small cry of surprise. She picked up the now-wailing baby and attempted to comfort her, but Maya was having none of it. An older couple approached and the wife said something in Spanish to the young woman while holding out her arms. The younger woman appeared to agree with the older woman and carefully handed the baby over to her. The older woman cradled Maya and sang something in Spanish to her as she rocked her.
Within a couple of minutes the baby's cries had faded, which eased Clint's worry about her somewhat. He felt Natasha's hand on his arm and he turned to look at her. She gave him a look that asked if he was ready to go, and he nodded. They then slipped away while everyone else was preoccupied with the baby.
*~*
Clint and Natasha returned to their apartment, neither saying anything the whole way there. Once there they entered and Natasha closed the front door behind her. Clint stopped where he stood in the front hall, his shoulders slumping slightly. Natasha felt her heart clench once again at his defeated stance. She instinctively reached out and touched his shoulder, squeezing it gently.
Without a word Clint turned and took hold of Natasha's face, kissing her lips hard. She pressed her body against his, wrapping her arms around his waist. She felt the need in his embrace, emotionally as well as physically. She was more than willing to give into his desperate need to connect with her since she wanted it too, because while she saw the futility in holding onto a child that wasn’t theirs, it didn’t mean she didn’t feel a similar desire as his for a family.
Clint continued kissing her ferociously as he moved his hands from her face, quickly sliding them down her body until they were at her ass. He then grasped her butt and lifted her slightly off her feet. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he walked them into the bedroom, placing her on the bed.
He hovered his upper body over her while they continued to kiss before he pulled back from the embrace, teasing her lower lip between his teeth before releasing it. Natasha frowned and opened her eyes, disappointed at the loss of contact. She still felt his need pressing into her, so it wasn't that he'd lost the desire to continue, but when she looked into his eyes, she saw such love that she never had before that she felt a wave of emotion wash over her. Tears pricked at her eyes and threatened to spill over, but she wouldn't allow it. Instead she chose to continue where they'd left off and she flipped them so that Clint was now beneath her on the bed. He didn't seem to mind in the least.
Natasha began kissing him passionately again and started to strip off her clothes piece by piece until she was down to her bra and panties. Clint followed her lead and did what he could from his position under her, managing to get as far as removing his sweater and t-shirt. After a couple of minutes, much to her surprise, he pushed her back from him.
“I'm seriously overdressed here, and it's tough getting my clothes off when you're on top,” he told her, his tone echoing the frustration on his face.
She chuckled and he frowned at her, the little crease between his eyebrows appearing to let her know he really wasn't amused.
“Well then, I guess I better help you with that,” she teased.
She placed her hands on his bare chest, quickly sliding them down to his waist as she reluctantly moved off him to stand next to the edge of the bed. “Hips up,” she said, her voice husky. He did as she asked and she grasped the waistband to his pants and boxer briefs at the same time, pulling them carefully but rapidly off him and turning to toss them on the floor before facing him again. She stood there for a moment to gaze admiringly at every glorious inch of his naked body lying on the bed. She felt her desire for him grow even more urgent as their eyes locked, his expression only emphasizing what his body already made clear: just how hungry he was for her. She made quick work of removing her underwear, throwing it aside and climbing back on the bed, straddling him once more.
Not wanting to draw this out much longer, she placed her hips over his and gently grasped his penis. Clint gasped quietly at the contact, his hips bucking slightly. She smiled and licked her lips at the reaction she got, and he unconsciously mimicked her actions. Her clit twitched at the sight and her nipples ached, knowing what that tongue could do to her, but she tried to keep focused on the here and now.
She eased her hips down, sliding him inside her. A pleased moan escaped her lips as he stretched her the further in he went, and he matched her moan with a happy groan of his own. Once he was as far in as he could get, she leaned forward and he sat up slightly, leaning on his elbows. She placed her hands at his shoulders and their lips met in a soft kiss, which quickly turned urgent as their mouths opened and their tongues teased.
Natasha moved her hands from his shoulders to his head, running her hands through his hair as they started to move their hips to match what their tongues were doing. She grasped his short, blond locks as they started to find a rhythm, moving up and down. Clint sat up further, slipping his arms around to her back, caressing her skin down to her ass. He groped her butt encouragingly as she moved in counterpoint to him, and she felt the desire for release growing quickly in her.
Clint moved a hand from her ass to grab her hair, pulling it so that he separated their lips. She groaned in frustration, but that quickly disappeared when his lips moved to the base of her neck. He placed a warm, wet kiss there and nipped at the skin before he pulled back. Natasha let out appreciative noises as he taunted her with his lips along her collar bone, sending delicious tingles down to her groin with each nip of his teeth.
It wasn't long before they began to speed up their thrusts, the need for release overtaking anything else. Clint buried his face in her neck, thrusting his hips harder and faster and she matched his movements easily. Within seconds she felt the wave of orgasm hitting her hard and she cried out as her body clenched around him. She held him close as he thrust a couple more times before a strangled cry of “fuck yeah” escaped his lips and he achieved his release as well.
They fell back onto the bed, Natasha lying atop him. They were breathing hard and completely spent, but she felt so utterly satisfied, and when she glanced up at him, she could tell he was too. He gazed down at her lovingly, rubbing her back with his left hand while his right caressed her face. She shivered slightly, her body cooling far too quickly as they lay there.
“You cold?” he asked, concerned.
“A little.”
“C'mon, let's get under the covers; warm you up,” Clint stated, a glint of mischief in his eyes.
Natasha laughed, happy to see the man she loved seeming to be back to his old self. “I didn't think you could recover that quickly anymore,” she teased him.
He sat up slightly and managed to spank her butt with his left hand. “The cheek! You know damn well I can keep up with you any day, woman.”
Her eyes widened and then narrowed at the contact and Clint knew he was in trouble now. But as his expression deepened in intensity, it was clear that he didn't care. Natasha felt a pleasurable tingling once more in her groin and within seconds their lips met again passionately, hands groping and grasping wherever they could as they fell back onto the bed.
*~*
It was two days before Christmas, and a little over a week had passed since they'd left baby Maya at the church. They'd seen a small piece a few days back in one of the local papers about the child being found at the church, but had heard nothing more about her welfare. That didn't mean anything though because they knew she was in safe hands.
Their lives in the meantime had returned to their usual pattern. They were prepping for a new job coming up in a few days, but they'd taken today as their day to attempt to behave like “normal” people. They got up late, ate a ridiculously unhealthy breakfast, and sat around the apartment in their pyjamas flipping through magazines and the weekend papers they never really had time to check out because they were rarely home.
Clint walked into the kitchen, placing their coffee cups on the counter before grabbing the pot off the burner. He poured fresh coffee into their cups and doctored them with cream and sugar as per their personal preferences.
Satisfied that the coffee would be to their individual liking, Clint picked up the cups and headed back to the living room. He walked toward Natasha who was curled up in a chair with a section of the LA Times. He reflexively smiled as he saw the slight smile on her lips while she read, but then he frowned a little when he noticed that she had tears in her eyes.
He neutralized his expression when he stopped in front of her, holding out her cup. She glanced up from the paper and blinked back the tears, pretending like nothing was wrong as she took the coffee from him. While he wanted to ask what was wrong, Clint knew better than to broach any potentially emotional subjects with her. If she wanted to talk about whatever had seemingly choked her up, he had to let her be the one to bring it up. He'd made the mistake once and suffered the consequences of a seriously cold shoulder for the better part of a week.
Natasha took a sip of the coffee and made a face. She unfolded her legs and then got up. “Needs more sugar,” she told him by way of explanation.
She folded the paper and tossed it on the chair and walked toward the kitchen, Clint watching as she disappeared into the other room. Once she was gone, he put his own cup down on the table next to the chair. He picked up and unfolded the paper, curious to see what in there had got her so uncharacteristically emotional.
He scanned the articles on the first page and near the middle he found a small one that told of how a baby left at a church had been reunited with her mother. The mother had been found wandering around the city with a few others who had been smuggled in and were seeking asylum.
Clint got teary as he read the article, happy that Maya was back with her family. He was momentarily surprised as he felt Natasha's arms wrap around his waist, her head laid against his back. He put the paper down, loosened her arms and turned to face her, kissing her gently.
“You really are quite the softie,” he teased lovingly as he pulled back from the embrace, smiling.
Natasha mock-scowled at him. “Don't go spreading that around. I have a reputation to maintain.”
“It's our secret,” he responded, leaning in to kiss her again, this time more deeply.
THE END
Author: pixiesio
A Gift For: hufflepuffsneak
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: angst, sex
Pairings: Clint/Natasha
Summary/Prompt Used: Clint and Natasha go to steal some weapons only to come out with something infinitely more precious.
Authors Notes: This wasn't even remotely the original fic I was going to write, but then this little AU nugget popped into my head and demanded to be written, so I went with it. Hope you enjoy it! :-D Thanks to sjhw_tolerance for beta-ing.
Banner by frea_o
Natasha Romanoff sat in the driver's seat of her van, her “partner in crime” Clint Barton beside her in the passenger seat. They were on a job to procure a weapons cache and sat waiting in the darkness outside a single-storey warehouse in East LA, watching for the last of the men inside the building to leave.
Natasha pulled her Glock out of its shoulder holster under her black leather jacket. She checked the clip in the weapon, more out of boredom than need since she knew it was full. They had been waiting for hours to make their move, but the guys who were working this warehouse were definitely taking their time in getting out of the place.
“There we go, last one out turns out the lights,” Clint commented quietly with a touch of sarcasm.
She looked up from what she was doing and saw the lights were indeed out inside the warehouse and the last truck was pulling out of the lot.
“Finally,” she muttered. She slid the clip back in before slipping the weapon back into its holster and zipping up her jacket.
They waited a couple more minutes just to be sure no one was coming back, and then they pulled on their black balaclavas before slipping out of the van. Following their plan they walked toward the back of the van and pulled out the tools they needed: a pressure washer, goggles, sledgehammers, and video feed blocker.
They made their way around to the back of the building, avoiding cameras while they set up the appropriate frequency to block the feed.
Finally at the back of the warehouse, they walked over to the where they’d determined during a preliminary recon was the weaker part of the stucco and wood structure. Normally they’d just break in through a back door, but for some unknown reason the building only had the one set of doors at the front facing the street.
They slipped on their goggles and began the work of breaking through the wall, Clint first using the specially designed pressure washer to wear down and cut through the stucco. Once they had an outline large enough to fit the small forklift that they knew was in the building, they picked up the sledgehammers and bashed in the remaining stucco followed by the wood behind it. It took them the better part of fifteen minutes taking turns to finish. They took off their goggles and wiped off the dust and pieces of wood that had landed on them. As they cleaned themselves off, they kicked and pushed any of the debris out of the way of their newly created door.
Natasha entered the warehouse first, Clint right behind her. They were alert, but they knew there was no surveillance inside the building.
She glanced around the darkened building, letting her eyes adjust to the lower lighting. She moved toward her destination, the blocked off room she knew was to her right, but paused when she heard a noise from the room to her left.
Natasha glanced back at Clint and asked, “Did you hear that?”
He shook his head. “What did you hear?”
“A noise, like something got knocked over in that room,” she told him, pointing to the wall on their left.
They stood quietly for a few seconds, but heard nothing. Natasha shook her head. “I must be hearing things,” she stated.
“Maybe it’s ghosts,” Clint teased.
She rolled her eyes at him even though she was sure he didn’t see it.
They started to walk again toward the other room’s door when a loud banging came from the room to the left, and then what sounded like a child’s cry, which was quickly silenced. They looked at each other and without a word drew their weapons. They walked as one, checking for any other surprises in the few feet to the door of the room. Standing in front of the door they noticed what looked to be a stream of light coming from under it.
Natasha signalled to Clint to try the door, and while he moved to turn the handle she kept her weapon trained on the door. The handle didn’t budge and he stepped back. He signalled that he was going to kick in the door, so Natasha crouched, knowing he’d go in high while she went in low.
He counted down silently from three with his fingers and then kicked at the area near the handle. The flimsy door easily fell in and they rushed into the dimly lit room at the ready.
They were surprised to see about a dozen somewhat dishevelled Hispanic-looking young men and women, maybe between the ages of 18 and 25. The group cowered together near the middle of the room against some packing crates. All their expressions made it clear they were fearful of what Clint and Natasha were going to do.
Recognizing that these people weren’t an immediate threat, both Clint and Natasha held up their hands, pointing their guns away from the others before carefully returning the weapons to their holsters. They then pulled off their balaclavas to show their faces.
The others appeared to relax some at the gesture, but all eyes were still on alert, which Natasha could understand. If a couple of people came crashing into somewhere she was hiding, guns drawn, she’d be leery of why they were there, even if they did stand down. Of course if that happened to her she’d most likely shoot them.
“What are you doing here?” Natasha asked the others in Spanish.
A tall, well-built man stepped up from the front of the group. “We’re here to work. What are you doing here?” he questioned, also in Spanish.
Natasha sighed and glanced over at Clint who didn’t understand Spanish. “He says they’re here to work. Looks like we stumbled on a human smuggling ring.”
Clint swore quietly. “What are we going to do about this?”
She shrugged. “We don’t have to do anything. The door’s open,” she commented, nodding toward the broken door.
“You’re getting soft, Tasha,” he said, giving her an affectionate smile.
Natasha snorted, but she couldn’t stop herself from returning his infectious smile. “I’ll let them know they’re free to go; you go to the other room and get started on moving the weapons.”
Clint nodded, his expression all business again. He jogged from the room, but then he was back seconds later.
“The building’s on fire,” he told her, his tone measured but urgent.
She stared at him incredulously and pushed past him to see for herself. The right side of the building was indeed alight with fire, and it was swiftly moving toward the room where the weapons were being housed. She swore loudly and ran back to the room.
“Everybody out!” Natasha yelled. “Now!” she added when the others stood there frozen.
Clint and Natasha quickly ushered the group out as they finally moved to leave. One woman though was resisting, but the man beside her dragged her along with the rest of them.
“I need to get her,” the young woman cried.
“Leave it; it’s been nothing but trouble,” he responded harshly.
She ignored him and actually managed to break free of the man’s grasp, trying to go back to the crates, but the man grabbed her roughly by the arm and dragged her out of the room.
With everyone out and smoke starting to cloud the air, Clint and Natasha went to leave, but before they got far they heard a child’s cry once again. They paused, and then were distracted by the first bit of weaponry exploding from the room opposite. They instinctively ducked and covered, but the debris didn’t get as far as them.
“We need to get out of here!” she yelled over the sounds of the fire and the now louder cries coming from the room behind them.
“I know, but there’s a kid still in there. We have to try to find it,” he responded equally loudly, his expression pleading.
Natasha was in no mood to argue with him right now, so she relented. “Quick search, but no more than a minute because the next explosion from that room may not be so small,” she said, coughing.
They returned to the room, and Natasha decided to go for the crates since the young woman had been so eager to go back there; maybe she was the mother of the child. As she rounded the stack of crates she found a baby, maybe no more than six months old, lying on the ground in a dirty pink blanket and wailing for all she was worth. Natasha picked her up and held her close in attempt to protect her from the smoke as she headed back to the exit.
She met up with Clint by the door and he looked surprised at the bundle she held in her arms. He said nothing, simply putting a protective arm around Natasha, leading her and the baby out of the smoke-filled building.
Once outside, they weren’t surprised to see that the others were long gone. They moved away from the burning warehouse and made their way to their van. They leaned against it for support and protection from the fire and random explosions coming from the building, taking in as much fresh air as they could.
Finally catching her breath again, Natasha felt frustrated as the baby continued to cry in her arms and no matter how much she attempted to shush the child, she wouldn’t calm down.
“Here, let me try,” Clint suggested, holding out his arms. Natasha gladly handed the child over to him.
He took hold of the baby and adjusted the way she was laying in his arms until she was properly cradled. He rocked back and forth on his feet and hummed a tune, and within a couple of minutes the baby had calmed down.
Natasha couldn't hide her amazement at the ease in which he'd done that. Clint caught the look on her face and smiled.
“What can I say, the ladies like me,” he joked.
She laughed and shook her head at his light attitude. Leave it to Clint to find the humour in this situation.
It wasn’t long until they heard sirens in the distance, meaning EMS was on its way.
“We have to go,” Clint stated and moved to get in the van, but Natasha placed a hand on his arm, stopping him.
“What are you doing?” she asked. “We can't take the baby with us.”
He frowned at her. “What else are we going to do? We can't just leave her here.”
She glanced around to see if there was somewhere to leave the child safely, but every building nearby was not much better than the next. As cold-hearted as she liked to present herself to others, Natasha knew she couldn't leave an innocent child out in the world to chance. That and the sound of sirens getting closer made her decision for her.
“Fine, get in before we have to answer questions we don't want to.”
She pressed the unlock button on the key ring, opening the door for Clint and quickly helping him buckle in while he held the baby. She ran around to the other side of the van and got into the driver's seat, starting up the engine. They drove away from the now-exploding inferno of a building and about a mile down the street they passed the EMS coming from the other direction.
Once all the trucks and cars had passed them, Natasha let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding. She glanced over at Clint who was also looking relieved as he gently rocked the baby in his arms. She returned her gaze to the road, refocusing herself on what was their next step now that the job had gone south.
*~*
Natasha parked the van several streets away and without a word she and Clint got out. While Clint walked away from it and called for a cab on his cell, Natasha stayed behind for a few minutes to take care of the necessary torching before catching up with him.
As they walked silently to the street Clint had asked to be picked up at, they both kept on alert for any potential trouble a couple with a baby might attract. Fortunately very few people seemed to be out at this time of the night, and none who were appeared to want to cause trouble for them. Of course this might have been because of Natasha's steely expression that told anyone who saw it not to fuck with her.
He took a moment to steal a glance at the baby in his arms. He adjusted the blanket over her head to keep her warm and felt what seemed to be a tag of some sort. Curious, he turned up the blanket and saw that a word had been sewn into it: Maya.
Either that was the name of the baby or the woman who made the blanket, but either way Clint decided to call the child by that name from now on. It was better than always referring to her as “the baby” or “the child”.
Maya was awake, but still surprisingly quiet. Her brown eyes stared up at him and she gave him what he interpreted as a smile, but for all he knew it was simply gas. All the same, he felt a surge of affection and protectiveness for this helpless being. He knew what it was like to lose your parents and be basically abandoned. Sure he'd had his brother, but despite having him there with him, in certain situations there was just no replacing simple things like a parent's embrace.
Clint and Natasha got to the cross street and waited around another five minutes for the cab to arrive. Other than telling the driver where they were going, neither spoke the whole ride back to the apartment building, seemingly lost in thought.
Around thirty minutes later they arrived, paid the cabbie and got out. They entered the building and made their way to their apartment. Natasha let them in and closed the door once Clint was in with the baby. He started to walk toward the bathroom to get himself and the baby cleaned up when Natasha finally spoke.
“We can't keep her,” she stated matter-of-factly.
He stopped and turned to face her, frowning and feeling defensive. “I'm not leaving her on some doorstep in the middle of the night,” he stated, his voice betraying emotions that went deeper than this situation.
Natasha sighed, crossing her arms in front of her in her own defensive posture. She went to speak again, but his heightened emotional state made him not want to listen to her right now.
“Can you at least get some formula and bottles for her; she probably hasn't been fed in a while. I'll take care of cleaning her up.”
She opened her mouth, about to say something, but seemed to think differently as she appeared to gauge him. She, more than anyone, knew him inside and out, and she knew when to fight him on something and when to step back. She seemed to mentally step back in this case.
“Fine. I'll be back in a little while,” she stated evenly, but Clint could tell she wasn't entirely happy, and probably wouldn't be until they'd talked this out fully.
Natasha turned on her heel and left the apartment, leaving him to Maya.
*~*
Natasha let out a deep breath as she walked out of the building, attempting to calm the emotions that were trying to get the better of her. Clint was always the more emotional one in their partnership, personally and professionally, and it wouldn't do for her to get swept up along with him. There were moments when it worked for them, but in this case they had to be logical.
She shook her head and turned to her right, heading in the direction of where she'd remembered seeing a small market one day while out on a run. She knew that part of why Clint was fighting to hold onto the child had to do with his own childhood and abandonment issues, and she understood them all too well. She had her fair share of those similar issues having been taken from her family as a small child and being made to believe that they no longer wanted her. Years after breaking free from the Red Room she'd found out that her father was the only one who had fought to keep her at home, but in the end even he had relented. Not that he probably had much choice considering how far and deep the Red Room ran in the now former Soviet Union, but it didn't hurt any less.
Natasha arrived at a bodega a few streets over from their building and entered in search of the formula she hoped they'd have. She walked down the aisle that listed baby products and found three different brands on the shelf. She grabbed a container of each one, not particularly wanting to make a decision on this, and then snagged a couple of baby bottles from the shelf below. She simply wanted to get home, clean up and get some sleep.
The cashier looked at her oddly when she put the three containers on the counter, but she smartly said nothing beyond quoting her total. Natasha paid the middle-aged woman, bagged her purchases and quickly left the store to make her way home.
Back at the apartment she let herself in and saw that Clint and the baby were nowhere in sight. She heard his voice coming from the bedroom, and she guessed he was going to sleep in there with the baby. She walked into the kitchen and left the bag on the counter, foregoing stripping off her clothes in the bedroom and instead heading for the bathroom to clean up the grime of their fruitless evening.
Once done with her shower, she gathered up her dirty clothes and walked naked to the bedroom to find a tank top and shorts to wear, as well as a pillow and a blanket since she planned to sleep on the couch. She passed Clint who was coming out of the bedroom, a sling hanging around his neck that was holding the baby which left his arms free. Natasha didn't miss the admiring look in his eyes as they travelled over her nude body, but she ignored him as she was in no mood to flirt right now.
“Formula is in the kitchen,” she told him over her shoulder.
She was glad when he didn't follow her into the bedroom and instead moved off to the kitchen. She pulled on her clothes and grabbed her pillow from the bed before dragging a blanket out of the closet.
Ready for bed, she headed back to the living room and set herself up on the couch. She turned out the light next to the seat and slid under the blanket, laying her head on the pillow while holding it between her arms.
Natasha closed her eyes, attempting to block out the noise of Clint puttering around the kitchen. Eventually exhaustion took over and she dozed off.
What seemed like seconds later she woke again. She slowly opened her eyes and saw that all lights were out except for a dim light coming from the open bedroom door. She sat up on the couch and looked at the clock hanging on the wall; an hour had passed since she'd crawled under her blanket.
Natasha lay back on the couch, groaning quietly. While the couch was comfortable enough, it was not her bed. And as much as she hated to say it, even to herself, she missed having Clint beside her. She always slept better when he was near.
Of course it didn't help that they were arguing over the fate of the baby.
As if the child had heard her last thought, Natasha heard a short cry emit from the bedroom before Clint's voice quietly shushed the baby. She lay there, staring at the ceiling, and listened to him quietly start singing what she assumed was a lullaby.
After a few minutes she got up and wandered to the kitchen, getting herself a glass of water. She sipped at it as she walked back in the direction of the couch, but decided she wasn't ready to lie down again. She instead moved toward the bedroom door and stopped there, looking in without being seen by Clint. He was lying on his side, his hand resting on the baby's belly rubbing it in a comforting motion. His expression while he sang to the child was an affectionate one she knew well, and it worried her. It meant he was getting attached to the baby.
But mixed with the worry was a certain amount of sadness, for him and her both. This child was not only a reminder of their own abandoned childhoods, but also the lack of something they both never overtly discussed: having a family. Sure they had each other, and most days that was more than good enough, but the arrival of this baby in their lives just drove home all the more for her what she couldn't give him.
Natasha shook her head as if to shake the gloomy thoughts away. She backed out of the door and returned to the couch, not wanting to ruin this happy moment he was having. She could at least allow him that.
*~*
Clint woke up at the sound of Natasha moving around in the kitchen. Baby Maya was awake beside him making quiet lip-smacking noises that made him think she was hungry.
He sat up and slid off the bed. Once upright he picked up Maya and cradled her in his arms, talking softly to her as he headed for the kitchen. He decided to forego the sling again; it had been a hindrance more than a help.
When he got to the kitchen he didn’t miss how out of sorts Natasha looked, but once she appeared to realize he was standing there, she forced a smile on her lips.
“Sleep well?” she asked lightly.
Her faking of a light tone was so obvious it actually pained him. He knew she didn’t agree with holding onto the baby, but he hadn’t been about to leave the child on some doorstep late at night. He knew what it was like to be abandoned and he would not allow that to happen to another child.
“I got a couple of hours. You?” he questioned as he walked past her toward the fridge. Careful not to jostle the baby, he managed to open the door, pulling out the formula container he’d left there last night and hip-checking the door closed again. He moved to get the spare bottle that had been sitting in the drying rack only to be surprised by Natasha reaching around him to take the formula from his hand. He turned to face her and watched while she walked to the island, reading the label on the bottle. Once at the island she picked up the spare bottle and poured in the formula.
“Yeah, maybe a couple of hours too,” she replied, sounding tired. He had the urge to place a comforting hand on her shoulder, but the tension in her body gave him pause.
Clint watched her move to the stove, pulling out a pot and filling it with water from the tap before returning to the stove. She stood there, staring at the water in the pot as it slowly heated and seeming like she wanted to say something but was unsure as to how to say it. He was pretty sure he knew what it was, and as much as he loved having the baby, logically he knew she wasn’t theirs to keep.
“We should look for a respectable orphanage or church where we can bring her,” he stated, pre-empting what appeared to be a difficult subject for her to broach with him.
Natasha looked up from the pot at him, her expression relieved and then conciliatory. She turned fully to look at him, leaning against the counter and giving him a small smile. “I’m sure there’s somewhere that can take care of her until her parents find her or they find the parents.”
Clint nodded, understanding the unsaid comment of “they can take care of her better than we can,” and he knew she was right. Sure they could look for the parents, but their lives were not exactly “Leave it to Beaver,” so keeping Maya with them wouldn’t be logical. She needed somewhere that was much better equipped to handle a baby.
“We can do some research after breakfast,” she told him, giving his left arm a squeeze.
She turned back to the stove as the water started to boil and continued preparing the bottle. He left the kitchen, walking to the couch and sat down, gently rocking the baby while they waited for the bottle to be ready.
Maya got her breakfast, and then she was put down for a nap. Clint and Natasha grabbed a quick bite and a couple of cups of coffee while they did their research. During that time, they found out from a local article online that police had already been aware of the warehouse being part of a smuggling ring, and most likely the men running it had found out the cops were on to them, explaining the burning down of the building.
After a couple of hours of searching and calls to reliable sources, they found Resurrection Church in East LA that was very highly regarded. Their decision made, Clint typed up a quick note with information on where Maya had been found in hopes this would help them find the parents.
Because they were in a mission mindset, they both dressed all in black: Clint was in jeans, a t-shirt, and a sweater; Natasha was in jeans with a mid-thigh length sweater over top. They fed and changed Maya one last time before heading out for the church shortly after four o’clock. Mass started at five o’clock, and they planned to arrive at the church shortly after the service had started.
Close to five thirty they drove up on the street behind the church, wanting to avoid the possibility of getting caught up with the cars in the parking lot. They got out of the van and made their way with the baby toward the building. Fortunately because of the time of year it got darker earlier, so they were able to keep to shadows and out of sight of any cameras for the most part, but the parking lot was fairly well lit. Because of this they did their best to hide their faces as they walked toward the back door of the church.
Natasha pulled open the heavy door for Clint, and both were reassured to hear the sound of several voices singing coming from within the building. Luckily for them no one seemed to be in the entrance area, so they made their way quietly toward the back pews. There weren’t many pews, but most people were nearer the front of the room and they were preoccupied with what the priest was doing while they sang. This allowed Clint and Natasha to come in unseen with Maya and stop at the back pews.
Clint looked down at the baby in his arms and she smiled up at him. For just a moment he hesitated, but when he felt Natasha’s hand on his arm, he took a deep breath and placed a soft kiss on the baby’s forehead before he laid her small form safely on the pew. His shoulders slightly slumped in defeat, he took the note out of his pocket and put it near her. Natasha surprised him by reaching down and gently caressing Maya’s head before she pulled back.
He glanced at her and saw a brief flicker of sadness before her mask came down. She gave him a tight smile before nodding toward the back doors of the building. Clint nodded, and then glanced at the baby one last time to make sure she was fine where she was.
Certain Maya would be fine for what he was sure the few minutes until she was found, Clint turned away and walked toward the exit. They were barely five steps away from the pew when the baby began to cry quietly, and this made him pause. Natasha had heard it as well and had stopped too, but she turned quickly to grab hold of his arm, giving him a look that told him he was not to go back. It pained him not to go and he hesitated a little, but when Natasha was determined she was a lot stronger than most would think. She kept a firm hold on his arm and pulled him with her to head back to the entrance hall.
As they just got into the entrance hall, Maya then started to cry even louder and Clint made them stop.
“We can’t go back,” Natasha whispered loudly, her tone a mix of resolution and pain.
He clenched his jaw and glanced back, holding back tears that threatened to fall. He was worried Maya would work herself up and roll off the pew, so he turned back toward the main room of the church as if he was going to go back in. He didn’t go far before the singing stopped and people started to turn to look at the back of the church.
Natasha pulled him aside near the back doors to the main room, allowing them to see in but not be seen.
They watched as several of the parishioners left their seats and made their way to the back pews. A young Hispanic woman was the first to find Maya and she let out a small cry of surprise. She picked up the now-wailing baby and attempted to comfort her, but Maya was having none of it. An older couple approached and the wife said something in Spanish to the young woman while holding out her arms. The younger woman appeared to agree with the older woman and carefully handed the baby over to her. The older woman cradled Maya and sang something in Spanish to her as she rocked her.
Within a couple of minutes the baby's cries had faded, which eased Clint's worry about her somewhat. He felt Natasha's hand on his arm and he turned to look at her. She gave him a look that asked if he was ready to go, and he nodded. They then slipped away while everyone else was preoccupied with the baby.
*~*
Clint and Natasha returned to their apartment, neither saying anything the whole way there. Once there they entered and Natasha closed the front door behind her. Clint stopped where he stood in the front hall, his shoulders slumping slightly. Natasha felt her heart clench once again at his defeated stance. She instinctively reached out and touched his shoulder, squeezing it gently.
Without a word Clint turned and took hold of Natasha's face, kissing her lips hard. She pressed her body against his, wrapping her arms around his waist. She felt the need in his embrace, emotionally as well as physically. She was more than willing to give into his desperate need to connect with her since she wanted it too, because while she saw the futility in holding onto a child that wasn’t theirs, it didn’t mean she didn’t feel a similar desire as his for a family.
Clint continued kissing her ferociously as he moved his hands from her face, quickly sliding them down her body until they were at her ass. He then grasped her butt and lifted her slightly off her feet. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he walked them into the bedroom, placing her on the bed.
He hovered his upper body over her while they continued to kiss before he pulled back from the embrace, teasing her lower lip between his teeth before releasing it. Natasha frowned and opened her eyes, disappointed at the loss of contact. She still felt his need pressing into her, so it wasn't that he'd lost the desire to continue, but when she looked into his eyes, she saw such love that she never had before that she felt a wave of emotion wash over her. Tears pricked at her eyes and threatened to spill over, but she wouldn't allow it. Instead she chose to continue where they'd left off and she flipped them so that Clint was now beneath her on the bed. He didn't seem to mind in the least.
Natasha began kissing him passionately again and started to strip off her clothes piece by piece until she was down to her bra and panties. Clint followed her lead and did what he could from his position under her, managing to get as far as removing his sweater and t-shirt. After a couple of minutes, much to her surprise, he pushed her back from him.
“I'm seriously overdressed here, and it's tough getting my clothes off when you're on top,” he told her, his tone echoing the frustration on his face.
She chuckled and he frowned at her, the little crease between his eyebrows appearing to let her know he really wasn't amused.
“Well then, I guess I better help you with that,” she teased.
She placed her hands on his bare chest, quickly sliding them down to his waist as she reluctantly moved off him to stand next to the edge of the bed. “Hips up,” she said, her voice husky. He did as she asked and she grasped the waistband to his pants and boxer briefs at the same time, pulling them carefully but rapidly off him and turning to toss them on the floor before facing him again. She stood there for a moment to gaze admiringly at every glorious inch of his naked body lying on the bed. She felt her desire for him grow even more urgent as their eyes locked, his expression only emphasizing what his body already made clear: just how hungry he was for her. She made quick work of removing her underwear, throwing it aside and climbing back on the bed, straddling him once more.
Not wanting to draw this out much longer, she placed her hips over his and gently grasped his penis. Clint gasped quietly at the contact, his hips bucking slightly. She smiled and licked her lips at the reaction she got, and he unconsciously mimicked her actions. Her clit twitched at the sight and her nipples ached, knowing what that tongue could do to her, but she tried to keep focused on the here and now.
She eased her hips down, sliding him inside her. A pleased moan escaped her lips as he stretched her the further in he went, and he matched her moan with a happy groan of his own. Once he was as far in as he could get, she leaned forward and he sat up slightly, leaning on his elbows. She placed her hands at his shoulders and their lips met in a soft kiss, which quickly turned urgent as their mouths opened and their tongues teased.
Natasha moved her hands from his shoulders to his head, running her hands through his hair as they started to move their hips to match what their tongues were doing. She grasped his short, blond locks as they started to find a rhythm, moving up and down. Clint sat up further, slipping his arms around to her back, caressing her skin down to her ass. He groped her butt encouragingly as she moved in counterpoint to him, and she felt the desire for release growing quickly in her.
Clint moved a hand from her ass to grab her hair, pulling it so that he separated their lips. She groaned in frustration, but that quickly disappeared when his lips moved to the base of her neck. He placed a warm, wet kiss there and nipped at the skin before he pulled back. Natasha let out appreciative noises as he taunted her with his lips along her collar bone, sending delicious tingles down to her groin with each nip of his teeth.
It wasn't long before they began to speed up their thrusts, the need for release overtaking anything else. Clint buried his face in her neck, thrusting his hips harder and faster and she matched his movements easily. Within seconds she felt the wave of orgasm hitting her hard and she cried out as her body clenched around him. She held him close as he thrust a couple more times before a strangled cry of “fuck yeah” escaped his lips and he achieved his release as well.
They fell back onto the bed, Natasha lying atop him. They were breathing hard and completely spent, but she felt so utterly satisfied, and when she glanced up at him, she could tell he was too. He gazed down at her lovingly, rubbing her back with his left hand while his right caressed her face. She shivered slightly, her body cooling far too quickly as they lay there.
“You cold?” he asked, concerned.
“A little.”
“C'mon, let's get under the covers; warm you up,” Clint stated, a glint of mischief in his eyes.
Natasha laughed, happy to see the man she loved seeming to be back to his old self. “I didn't think you could recover that quickly anymore,” she teased him.
He sat up slightly and managed to spank her butt with his left hand. “The cheek! You know damn well I can keep up with you any day, woman.”
Her eyes widened and then narrowed at the contact and Clint knew he was in trouble now. But as his expression deepened in intensity, it was clear that he didn't care. Natasha felt a pleasurable tingling once more in her groin and within seconds their lips met again passionately, hands groping and grasping wherever they could as they fell back onto the bed.
*~*
It was two days before Christmas, and a little over a week had passed since they'd left baby Maya at the church. They'd seen a small piece a few days back in one of the local papers about the child being found at the church, but had heard nothing more about her welfare. That didn't mean anything though because they knew she was in safe hands.
Their lives in the meantime had returned to their usual pattern. They were prepping for a new job coming up in a few days, but they'd taken today as their day to attempt to behave like “normal” people. They got up late, ate a ridiculously unhealthy breakfast, and sat around the apartment in their pyjamas flipping through magazines and the weekend papers they never really had time to check out because they were rarely home.
Clint walked into the kitchen, placing their coffee cups on the counter before grabbing the pot off the burner. He poured fresh coffee into their cups and doctored them with cream and sugar as per their personal preferences.
Satisfied that the coffee would be to their individual liking, Clint picked up the cups and headed back to the living room. He walked toward Natasha who was curled up in a chair with a section of the LA Times. He reflexively smiled as he saw the slight smile on her lips while she read, but then he frowned a little when he noticed that she had tears in her eyes.
He neutralized his expression when he stopped in front of her, holding out her cup. She glanced up from the paper and blinked back the tears, pretending like nothing was wrong as she took the coffee from him. While he wanted to ask what was wrong, Clint knew better than to broach any potentially emotional subjects with her. If she wanted to talk about whatever had seemingly choked her up, he had to let her be the one to bring it up. He'd made the mistake once and suffered the consequences of a seriously cold shoulder for the better part of a week.
Natasha took a sip of the coffee and made a face. She unfolded her legs and then got up. “Needs more sugar,” she told him by way of explanation.
She folded the paper and tossed it on the chair and walked toward the kitchen, Clint watching as she disappeared into the other room. Once she was gone, he put his own cup down on the table next to the chair. He picked up and unfolded the paper, curious to see what in there had got her so uncharacteristically emotional.
He scanned the articles on the first page and near the middle he found a small one that told of how a baby left at a church had been reunited with her mother. The mother had been found wandering around the city with a few others who had been smuggled in and were seeking asylum.
Clint got teary as he read the article, happy that Maya was back with her family. He was momentarily surprised as he felt Natasha's arms wrap around his waist, her head laid against his back. He put the paper down, loosened her arms and turned to face her, kissing her gently.
“You really are quite the softie,” he teased lovingly as he pulled back from the embrace, smiling.
Natasha mock-scowled at him. “Don't go spreading that around. I have a reputation to maintain.”
“It's our secret,” he responded, leaning in to kiss her again, this time more deeply.
THE END