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What the Future Will Bring (Ready Or Not); 05/24-early afternoon- (Bobbi, Clint)
Topic Started: Sep 21 2014, 05:53 PM (831 Views)
Mockingbird
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[Cont'd from Proper Debriefing]

Slowly but surely, as they made their way back to their room, Bobbi's heartbeat finally slowed down to something lower than 'light speed' and she almost felt like she could breathe again. Even if she didn't feel one bit steady. It was stupid and reactionary and all the damned things she absolutely hated, but there wasn't a single thing she could seem to do about it other than ride it out.

God. Idiot. She was an idiot.

All that talk about knowing what she was doing and low percentage calculated risks and looking at it more as a biological process...yeah, she hadn't really known a damned thing, had she? Greer had tried to tell her, and she'd thought she got it when she really hadn't.

Hadn't really understood it all in her gut. Not until one've those damned kids got off a lucky shot that'd nearly-

Alright. Deep breath again, arm tightening around Clint a little more. Still not ready to think about that yet. Needed a little more time to process that she was fine - they were both fine - before she could revisit that without her knees still wanting to drop out from under her. Shock. It was just shock, it'd pass. Bobbi still had enough presence of mind to recognize that, at least.

Hawk had to think she'd lost her mind and Mockingbird shot a sidelong glance toward her husband as they got to the door of their room, got it open, and got inside. Thank god. Now maybe she could figure out what the hell she needed to say to him. Or at least how to start saying something.

He'd probably be pissed as hell, she probably would be in his place, but the blonde wasn't sure that was something she was up to dealing with right now, either. So, instead of saying anything yet, she sent Clint a tight smile, slipped out of his grasp and dropped down onto the side of the bed.

"Sorry, Babe," she managed, taking another breath and letting it out, clasping her hands together in her lap. They felt like they might start shaking again. "I'm okay. I just needed to get out of there."

She'd probably scared the hell out of him, and she was sorry for that, too. Turning into a complete mess wasn't normally something she did, but guess it was a day for all kinds of surprises.
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Hawkeye
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The distance to Clint and Bobbi's room was short enough, especially with as well as they both knew the helicarrier, even after all these years. They hadn't just ducked into the nearest available empty space where they wouldn't be interrupted. That was a good sign, wasn't it?

Or were things so bad they had to go somewhere Bobbi could feel a connection with? God, was that it?

Damn it, he was going to go crazy if he kept thinking himself in circles like that. The slight press of Bobbi's arm as she squeezed him a little tighter managed to pull him out and center his thoughts back where they belonged. On her.

He caught a quick look from her out of the corner of her eye and wondered if he was hovering a little too much as he guided her along. She was probably going to be pissed off when she found out that he'd skipped over to DC instead of going straight back here like he was supposed to. He'd worry about that later, though. After he finished taking care of her. Which was going to start happening the moment he figured out what she needed him to do.

As soon as they were inside Clint steered her toward the bed. Or she steered him, since her legs seemed to automatically move in that direction. She looked at him again, lips pressed tight, a wan smile on her lips before she seemed to melt out of his arm and slide down to a new perch on the side of the bed.

"Sorry, Babe," she said. Her voice still sounded way too unsteady for Clint's liking. A heavy breath gusted out of her. Slender hands molded together on her lap as though it was the only thing keeping them where they belonged. "I'm okay. I just needed to get out of there."

Clint's head bobbed in place anxiously and be blew out a long breath. "You're okay," he said. That's what Greer had said, too. And Cece had said she was a little shaken up. "I'm okay. We're all okay." He tried not to fidget. Rooted his feet to the carpet to keep from pacing. He knew if he started he's be halfway to burning a hole through it in less than a minute.

How was he supposed to interpret 'okay' when every sign since he'd arrived pointed to something not being okay? He could just ask what was wrong, but maybe she didn't know. Or maybe she didn't want to tell him for some reason. Or she just wanted him to wait until she started explaining on her own.

"You didn't get hurt?" he said, looking her over one more time. Her bodysuit looked in tact, but Hell, that just meant he wouldn't be able to tell if something was going on underneath it. "Do you need me to get you anything?"

God, he didn't want to leave her. Not when she was in this kind of state. He couldn't remember the last time she'd even been this bad. But he had to do something before he exploded from worry.
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She was in the room. She was sitting. Her head was still a mess, but that was starting to settle down, too, and she'd stopped feeling like she was about start puking all over again for reasons that didn't have anything to do with changing hormones. Mostly.

Anything past that, she still didn't have a damned clue where to start. Well, other than throwing out a 'sorry for scaring the hell out of you, babe' Clint's way. Not that that was a lot of help, Hawk was practically vibrating in damned place as his head bobbed up and down and he took his own turn trying to breathe.

Jesus. This was going so damned well. Dammit, Bobbi, pull yourself together. You're supposed to be good at that.

"You're okay," Clint told her, repeating that right back to her. "I'm okay. We're all okay." Oh god, if she didn't get it together, Clint might just explode all over the carpet from the way that sounded and the way he looked. Like he was trying to keep himself from blasting off and ricocheting off the walls like an out of control ping pong ball.

Bobbi knew that look, usually at least had some clue what the hell to say to head it off. Not this time, since the only things she could seem to get from her head to the tip of her tongue didn't seem like things to just blurt out, no matter how much she felt like doing just that to get it over with. And they wouldn't calm anything down.

"You didn't get hurt?" he said, looking her over one more time like there might've been something he missed the first time he did it. And hadn't she told him that? Or Greer. She was positive somebody told him she wasn't hurt at least once. "Do you need me to get you anything?"

Still a fair question, though, wasn't it? Considering she was sitting here, probably pale as milk and looking like she was still halfway to falling apart. After pulling him out of Washington (why the hell he was in Washington to start with was a whole other question she was just starting to think about) in the middle of a day like today.

"I'm fine, Clint," she assured him, running a hand through the long strands of blonde hair trying to fall into her face to push them back. "I'm not hurt, I'm just-" Pregnant. Really, completely unexpectedly pregnant. And apparently stupid. God, that had been stupid and Greer had tried to tell her, hadn't she?

Bobbi actually tried to say it, at least some of it, to get it the hell over with. The words got stuck halfway out of her throat and wouldn't budge.

"I'm okay," Mockingbird said instead, looking up at her anxious husband that she obviously wasn't helping be any less anxious. "Sit down or something," the blonde added, waving a hand in a vague motion for stop doing that thing you're doing. "I'm not gonna shatter and you're making me nervous doing...that."

He could vibrate from a seated position while she worked on getting over this...whatever kind of block this was. Or shock. Or whatever the hell.
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Okay.

Everyone kept using that word. Like it meant something different to them than it did to Clint. If it was supposed to make him feel better or not worry as much, it wasn't working. Bobbi was not okay, and the more people kept telling him she was, the worse he imagined the truth had to be. Sure, she wasn't injured, but-

-wait, was she unhurt? He remembered what Greer said, but something wasn't adding up, there. Maybe Bobbi'd taken a hit and the healers had gotten to her before it became a problem. She sure as hell hadn't gotten like this all on her own.

He should ask, just in case. That's the sort of thing Bobbi would do, right? Eliminate the worst possibilities and work from there. While he was at it, he should also ask if she needed anything. A drink maybe, or a pillow. A Xanax IV. If she named it, he'd find it and bring it.

Crap, no. That would mean leaving the room, wouldn't it? Okay, scratch that, he'd-

"I'm fine, Clint," Bobbi said, putting the brakes on his latest train of thought before it had a chance to run off the tracks. She raked her fingers through her hair, which had been slowly dropping into a long blonde veil in front of her face. "I'm not hurt, I'm just-"

Clint leaned forward, eyebrows lifting slightly, lips parting as if somehow that could coax the next word out of her. "Just....?" he said. What? God, what could she possibly be trying to say that was so hard to finish?

"I'm okay," she said. Arrrrgh! Clint barely managed not to groan, or stare up at the ceiling, or reach up and start yanking tufts of his own hair out. That wasn't going to help Bobbi. It would just make her more upset, and god, seeing her like this was bad enough and he had no idea what to do.

"Sit down or something," Mock told him, then, and lifted an agitated hand the way she did when she wanted him to knock off whatever was bothering her. "I'm not gonna shatter and you're making me nervous doing...that."

Shit. "Sorry, Babe," Clint said, flushing slightly and heaving an exasperated sigh at himself. He twisted slightly, looking toward the chair by the desk, halfway ready to head over there and carry it here to sit facing her before he stopped himself. Stupid, that was stupid. He was stupid. A stupid idiot moron. Had he mentioned to Blowfly that he was an idiot when she called him out on leaving his story hanging at the worst possible moment? Because that might have explained it better than anything.

He swung back toward his wife. "Er," he said, because that was the kind of snappy patter he was so well known for. "Sitting down." He kind of jerked forward, moving to the side and turning so he could drop down on the edge of the bed right next to Bobbi. There. That was better, right?

Clint blew out another breath. "Alright," he said, trying not to give her any worried looks, since that was clearly not helping. "Here we are." He slipped one arm around her waist, not sure if that was going to do any good, but it helped keep him from fidgeting some. He looked over at Bobbi and tried to give her a reassuring smile, probably ruining it with all the concern in his eyes. The fingers of his other hand moved to his leg and began to slowly drum against his knee.

He'd gotten her away from everyone else like she asked, and now it was just the two of them. He still had no idea what the hell to do, or say, or pretty much anything. At least whatever had happened to her back there was behind them.
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She was fine.

Bobbi knew she was fine. Greer had told her everything was fine and she believed her, when she might not've believed anybody else right now. Even Clint was telling her she was okay, but she thought that might've actually been more of an attempt to convince himself than convince her, since she was falling down on her normal job of doing that for him and couldn't seem to get her shit together enough to sound convincing.

But she was okay. Not hurt, even if she couldn't seem to get her head together enough to head Clint off from possibly launching himself into overload until he jumped out of his own skin. He had that look and she knew it and, dammit, she was just-

Pregnant.

That was all, but it was the biggest word in the world right now. Filling her head and clogging her throat so that she couldn't get it out. Couldn't manage to say that one word out loud yet. Even when her husband leaned forward, brows going up and expression like he was trying to help her say it.

"Just....?" he said leadingly, but she still couldn't and that wasn't making any've this anything but worse. God, he had to think she was nuts. He had to think-

Hell, she didn't know. What she thought right now was a mystery, other than the same things rolling around and around in her head over and over and just keeping her on edge. Keeping her hands wanting to shake if she wasn't careful about not letting them do that.

And Hawk meant well, and she knew he was worried and she knew she wasn't helping at all, and if he wasn't here Bobbi wouldn't swear she might not shatter after all. But he needed to sit down or something and knock that off, or she just might lose her damned mind completely.

"Sorry, Babe," Clint said face coloring and making her feel a little worse about the whole damned thing. Then not so much. What the hell was he doing? Jesus, it wasn't like she was going to bite him. Or pull out her staves and start smacking him in the head for god's sake.

"Er," he said, turning back her way as Bobbi just stared at him for a second, heaving out a heavy breath and shook her head, brow arched and giving him an expectant look. God. "Sitting down." Not snapping at him. That was something she wasn't going to do right now, no matter how on edge she was or how much Clint looked like he thought he might be sitting down next to a live hand grenade.

That sure as hell wasn't making her feel any better, or this be any easier. Dammit, once. Just once, why couldn't they have a conversation like normal people? How hard could it be?

"Alright," Hawk started again after letting out a breath of his own. "Here we are." Apparently a lot harder than it looked, but then she already knew that, didn't she? They were good together for a lot've things, talking wasn't usually one of them.

Why couldn't she figure out what to do with herself? Or at least find a place to start? A word, something. Anything. This was starting to feel a little too much like...other times that she'd rather not think about and that scared her. Maybe more than the rest, that scared her and Bobbi stared down at her hands. Almost started when Clint's arm slipped around her, then relaxed again and turned to back to look at him.

Even managed something close to a smile to meet the one he had on his face. Worried. She could see that, too, and the blonde faltered. Maybe this wasn't a good idea right now. Maybe it could wait, or should wait. It was early days, she could blow this off as some fluke. Probably even make him believe it. Not worry him anymore or have to figure out how to say it all. Tell him later, when it wasn't attached to all this crap. Do it like it should be done. Like Greer had said, she was fine. They were both fine. She could-

Instead of any've that, though, Bobbi cut herself off mid-thought, brows drawing together just a little more as she looked at Hawk. Then did something else instead. Something she didn't think about, just did. She slid her arms around Clint's neck tight, pulled him in close, or pulled herself in close. Didn't matter.

"I did something really stupid today, Babe," she told him, voice sounding too small but at least managing to say something. It was a start. A hell of a lot better one than going down that other road. The one they'd been down before and that she'd sworn she'd never take again.

Just old fears and nerves talking. That was all.
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Hawkeye
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Nice going, Clint. Jesus. It was a wonder Bobbi hadn't snapped at him or worse, at the rate he was going. Or, crap, burst into tears. Yeah, he might just be panicking so bad that she actually looked like that could happen. Or it might not be his imagination and damned if Clint could the remember the last time she'd ever been on the verge that way.

So. Sitting down, then. He could do that. Maybe that would help, but right this instant he'd settle for just not making things worse. He couldn't fidget from here, that was for sure.

Well, not much.

Now if he could just figure out what the hell to say to her, because this really wasn't a situation he had much experience with. They were here, though. Whatever it was she needed to say, or do, or tell him, hopefully this was the best possible place for it.

She almost seemed to stiffen when Clint put his arm around her waist. God, he didn't know what he was going to do if she pushed him away now. Or shut him out. Lose his mind, probably. But then she relaxed and turned her head toward him.

He tried to find something in her soft blue gaze, a clue to all this, or even a sign that this was helping to settle her down. She did smile, a little, but it felt more like she was just trying to reflect off of him, rather than expressing something she really felt. He still couldn't even find a clue to what she was thinking.

Her brows knit tight, then, which was the only warning Clint got before she moved her arms toward him, sliding them around his neck in a tight hug. She pulled against him, binging herself closer to him and clung against him.

"I did something really stupid today, Babe," she said in a faint voice. Just like in the ops room.

She was the furthest thing from an idiot, but he had a feeling she wasn't in the mood for him to tell her that right now. He tightened his own grip on her, bringing his other arm around to as much of a hug as he could manage from their position. "Oh, Birdie," he whispered, planting kisses on the top of her head. "Oh, Mock. Oh, Hon."

Bending forward slightly, Clint reached down with his arm and hooked it under her legs. "Come on over here, Babe," he said, and half-lifted, half-coaxed her onto his lap. Once there, he embraced her once again, planted one more kiss on her forehead, and looked into her eyes.

"Let's talk about it, okay?" he asked gently. Whatever it was might not be as bad as she thought. She wasn't hurt, and he was guessing the mission went the way it was supposed to by the end of it. If something happened in-between that, they'd work it out. It wasn't always easy, but they always figured out something eventually. They could do it again, no matter what this was.
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She could make it work. Put it off. Come up with...something. An explanation that wouldn't be the real one. She could make him believe it.

It was something she'd done before. Looked him in the face and lied because she couldn't tell him the truth. Couldn't say the words that would make it all too damned real. Couldn't admit she'd let that happen to her. That she couldn't stop it, hadn't found a way to stop it.

Hadn't found a way to control her own damned life better than that.

Yeah, that'd really worked out well, Bobbi reminded herself. So well it'd nearly destroyed everything. It hadn't all been her, but maybe, just maybe, if she'd managed to tell the real story it wouldn't have gone to hell like it had. It wouldn't have given Slade's spirit anything to hold over her.

Him, that...not anything she wanted to think about. Sure as hell not anything she wanted involved in this. Old memories. Old fears. Not going down that road again. They'd worked like hell to get past all that.

Dammit, she should've been happy. This should've been something good, something she wanted to tell Hawk. Not this wreck of nerves and shock and scaring the hell out of both of them. Jesus

Bobbi turned toward Clint, brows creased and still not knowing what the hell to say. For once, though, doing what she felt like she needed to do at least. Just leaned in and slipped her arms around him. Tight. Practically clinging to him, but that was all right. With Clint, that was all right.

God, she hoped it was all right, since all she could do was tell him again what she'd pretty much told him earlier. She'd done something really stupid today. Voice sounding too small even to her own ears. Fuck, she hated that.

Hawk tightened his arms around her, pulled her in tighter, and some of the knots in her shoulders, in her chest, eased off a little. "Oh, Birdie," he whispered, planting kisses on the top of her head. "Oh, Mock. Oh, Hon."

She didn't have any words yet. Not any that she could get out, so she tightened her hold on him a little more instead as she let him shift her around without complaint. "Come on over here, Babe," Clint told her, and then she was on his lap and she didn't protest that, either. Curled in around him instead as his lips pressed against her forehead, worried blue eyes catching her own.

"Let's talk about it, okay?" he asked gently and she nodded. Slowly, eyes dropping down briefly, settling on the collar of his stealth suit. They needed to. Had to. She had to figure out how to do this, this time. It didn't matter that she hated feeling like this. That she was no damned good at this. She had to figure it out anyway. Like Greer'd said, it wasn't just her now. It was her and somebody that was totally dependent on her.

So far, she hadn't done so great getting that.

"Clint." Well, she managed that. His name, nothing right after that, though. Had to stop and swallow whatever was trying to clog her throat up instead. Look back up at him. "Babe," she started again, frowning as everything seemed to back up in her throat. Wouldn't let itself be pushed out. God, this was stupid. Stupid. "God."

Frustrated word, frustrated breath, and she dropped her forehead against his shoulder. Had she mentioned how damned stupid this was?

Alright, screw this. "I'm-" Bobbi started again, turned her eyes back up to Hawk, "You're not gonna like this, Babe," she warned him, or maybe warned herself. Hard to tell right now. "When I said I did something really stupid, I meant it. I'm okay. I'm pretty sure everything's okay," Mockingbird added by way of reassurance. Whether for her or Clint, or both, she couldn't have said, either.

Another pause and dammit. She needed to say it. She just needed to say it. Get over that hump that seemed like it was the size of a mountain. Maybe...god, just get it out where they could deal with it. Where he could be pissed off or whatever. It felt like her chest might explode from the pressure if she didn't.

Lips pursed, her brows drew together again. Forced out the words, or gave it a damned good try. "Hawk...Babe, I'm pregnant," it was quiet and halting and hoarse but it was out. "I knew this morning, after we all met up at Greers." Bobbi raised her hand as her breath hitched. Was surprised to find her cheeks wet. Closed her eyes briefly and took a breath, holding onto him and wanting it all out, all of it said, before she stopped. She wasn't sure she'd be able to start again. "I knew and I went out anyway and I'm okay. But I almost wasn't." One arm went down, curled around her middle again. "We almost weren't."

Not just her anymore and she dropped her forehead to Clint's shoulder again. Reminded herself it was over, refused to let her damned hands start shaking again. Dammit, she really hated this.
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"Clint."

Just that. Just his name, and nothing else. But it was a start. Bobbi was trying, in spite of her wrecked nerves. Maybe it helped, sitting together like this, her on his lap, clinging to him. It was hard to tell, but if there was anything else they could possibly do the make this talk easier, Clint couldn't think of it. And she was trying.

She swallowed, as if there was some invisible blockage keeping her from saying more. Her rose back up from where she'd been inspecting his collar. Back to him. "Babe," she said, and frowned, stuck once again. "God."

That last word was thick with frustration, as was the breath she let out. Bobbi lowered her head again, bumping it against his shoulder, possibly because there weren't any brick walls handy.

Clint could sympathize.

Maybe this was too much to put on her right now. Every nerve in Clint's body was screaming that they had to talk about this, but if Bobbi needed to settle down first, they could figure something else out until then. "Birdie," he said haltingly. "We don't-"

"I'm-" Bobbi said, cutting him off, eyes lifting back up to him. Clint snapped his mouth shut, forcing himself not to ride over her to finish his own sentence. "You're not gonna like this, Babe," she continued, and that- God, Clint wanted to deny it. Wanted to do something that would reassure her that she was wrong about how he'd react. But they both knew better.

"When I said I did something really stupid, I meant it. I'm okay. I'm pretty sure everything's okay," she continued, perhaps to emphasize the point. Except every other time someone had said it, the word’s ‘pretty sure’ weren’t attached to it, and now they were. That wasn’t exactly encouraging.

“Okay,” Clint said anyway. If he latched on to that, it would steamroll right over whatever she was trying to say before she had a chance to even get started. If he really wasn’t going to like this, he may as well know everything first.

Bobbi furrowed her brow again, lips pinched together like she was trying to squeeze the words out like toothpaste at the end of a nearly empty tube. "Hawk...Babe, I'm pregnant," she said, voice cracked and quiet, but he heard every word with crystal clarity all the same.

Pregnant. The word hit him like an eye doctor’s air jet. Jarring, hard enough to tell what it was, but too sudden for it to really sink in right away. “Pregnant?” he said. Out of every wild scenario blitzing through Clint’s mind, this had not been one of them. How could it be? She’d just told him yesterday that she wasn’t pregnant. No little Bartons on the way.

"I knew this morning, after we all met up at Greers." Bobbi let out a hitching breath and as Clint watched, he was shocked to see tears starting to crawl down her cheek. God, she was crying. She brushed at it with her hand, not seeming to realize it herself until she felt the wetness. Clint gave her a squeeze as she closed her eyes, almost afraid if he released her she’d lose her nerve again, but she was still holding on to him just as tight.

"I knew and I went out anyway and I'm okay. But I almost wasn't." One arm went down, curled around her middle again. "We almost weren't." We. Her and the baby, though she looked no different. Except the way her hand cupped herself, which seemed pretty universal for ‘there’s a baby in here’ no matter what else someone looked like.

It was odd hearing that word from her. ‘Almost.’ It had never sounded the way she made it sound now. Before, ‘almost’ was a rush for her. A thrill. This time it was filled with dread and anxiety. Her forehead went back to Clint’s shoulder and he moved one hand to back of her head, gently stroking her hair. “Thank God you’re okay,” he said, voice almost a whisper. His other hand moved to cover the one at her middle.

He should be upset about this. Something in the back of his mind kept telling him that. He’d been upset yesterday, in Utah. Both of them arguing constantly for almost the entire mission.

But he hadn’t stopped her. He hadn’t insisted she pull out, or asked Simon to send her away. Should he have? What if something had happened then?

Had she tried to tell him this morning? Maybe. Once he’d found out about Steve, he’d become so focused on that mission, he wasn’t sure. God, he should have been there for her.

“I-“ he tried to say, but the words cut out before he could pull them into a thought. “You-“ still no good. “Pregnant.” He swallowed, tried to compose his thoughts and feelings into something that made sense. “Thank God you’re okay,” he repeated. Maybe he was going to be upset or angry. Maybe he should be. But something almost happened to Bobbi and her baby and they were okay and anything else about that was going to have to wait until he was done being grateful for that. He blinked and a tear dropped from one eye, leaving a slow trail down his cheek. “And you’re not stupid.”
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She was okay. She'd done something abysmally stupid, but she was okay. Bobbi kept saying that, maybe to reassure Clint. Probably to reassure herself. Possibly get it to sink in like she wanted it to and needed it to. So she'd say it one more time (at least). She was okay, she was pretty sure everything was okay.

Greer had said that and she believed her. It wasn't something Tigra would ever say just to make her feel better if she wasn't as sure as she could be.

“Okay,” Clint acknowledged, sounding as lost in all this as Bobbi felt herself. Guess it was up to her to find the damned path out - or maybe farther in, but that was too much to think about right now - since she was the only one that could. Bite the bullet, then. Something she was usually good at, but that didn't work quite that way this time.

Some halting, a little stuttering that annoyed the hell out of her, but she managed it. Actually said the word out loud. To him. Pregnant. She was pregnant. No changing her mind about telling him. No taking it back.

Made it real in a way that had her caught not knowing how to feel. Scared. Excited. Anxious. Wondering what the hell he'd think, when she'd just sworn to him yesterday that she wasn't. God, would he think she'd been lying to him then?

“Pregnant?” Hawk repeated, like a question. Making sure he'd heard it right or she wasn't pulling some kind of stupid joke or, hell, she didn't know. Right now, she barely knew what was going on in her own head. Stunned, though. She could pick that one out easy enough.

"Yeah," Bobbi confirmed quietly, then the words just started tumbling out. Greer telling her this morning, getting that out as her husband tightened his arms around her briefly. How she'd known and gone out anyway. Thought she'd be fine. She was fine. They were fine, since it really wasn't just her and Clint anymore, was it? One arm wrapped around her middle, ignoring that she was fucking crying and god, she'd always hated that.

They were fine, but they almost hadn't been. And it had scared her in a way she'd never realized that any kind of close call could scare her. She'd had plenty. More than her share, maybe, between SHIELD and the Avengers and the last five years. Hell, she'd practically thrived on them. Nothing, though - nothing - that'd ever made her feel like this.

Fragile. She felt way too damned fragile. Shaky. Every single thing she hated being.

Clint, she'd expected him to...what? Get angry? Tell her how damned stupid she'd been? To go out? To not even tell him before she did? None of that came, though, as she dropped her forehead back to his shoulder. Maybe he was just too stunned to get there. Didn't know, really. Didn't know how she expected him to react.

What he said, though, was, “Thank God you’re okay,” in something close to a whisper. Large hand going down to cover hers and that, just that, hit her harder than if he'd been yelling. Than if he'd been mad as hell. Like a fist to her chest, making her breath hitch again. Made her eyes squeeze tight and her other arm do the same around his neck.

“I-“ he tried to say, but the words cut off. “You-“ still no good. “Pregnant.” Yeah, that was the one wasn't it? That word that coming back to the front of everything else.

"Yeah," Bobbi managed again, talking more to his shoulder than anything else, voice feeling too think, still. "Pregnant. Only a couple of weeks, probably."

Hawk's throat clicked as he swallowed hard. Surprise, still? Worry? Fear? Was he really as ready as he'd said last night? Or was this just going to bring back everything with Kate all over again? It was an easy damned thing, to say everything was okay, that it was done, when reality wasn't staring you right in the face yet.

“Thank God you’re okay,” he repeated and Bobbi turned her head toward the crook of his neck, cheek resting against his shoulder now. Breathing easier. In and out. Just in and out. “And you’re not stupid.”

Almost against her will, her lips twitched, even if it was a little weak, or it sure as hell felt that way. "Yeah, well, I won't win any prizes for remembering appointments," she answered wryly, then added more quietly, "This whole thing makes me feel stupid, and I was luckier than I probably should've been today."

Yeah, she knew it wasn't the first mistake she'd ever made. It wouldn't be the last one. But it was a hell of an important one and-

"I really want this kid, Clint," Bobbi admitted, the same way she'd admitted it to Greer before she'd gone out and done the stupidest thing she could because she thought it really was all just like it had been before. "And I almost screwed it up before I even got started."
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Pregnant.



Pregnant?

"Yeah," Bobbi said, voice like a feather. She was crying, but Clint couldn’t tell if it was because of the baby, or because of what had almost happened, or because she still thought he wasn’t going to like it- No. She thought he was going to be mad. The way she’d thought he’d be mad years ago and he’d done worse than live up to her expectations.

He didn’t know what he was going to do if she didn’t stop crying, or if it got worse. She hated crying, or doing anything that made her feel weak.

What if she was so upset because she didn’t want to be pregnant? She might have said she wanted children last night out of the heat of the moment. Had she changed her mind, only to find out it was too late?

When she started talking again, however, it didn’t sound like that at all. She let out a rush of words explaining when she’d found out and what had happened since then. Everything she had to be feeling seemed almost to burst out of the words she spoke. Guilt, fear, helplessness, panic over what might have been. And still worry over what Clint would say, and God, he didn’t know. He didn’t know what to say, so he let his heart take over where his mind failed to function.

She was okay. She and the baby inside her. Thank God for that.

As relieved as that should have made him feel, his worry only increased. Especially when Bobbi’s eyes clenched shut as if against some phantom blow. Her breath caught and her arm tightened around Clint’s neck. Clint felt his heart skip, unsure what might follow, but he held her, the arm around her closing tighter in answer, offering silent assurance that he was still here. That he wasn’t going anywhere.

If only he could get his voice to work with the same certainty. He could barely manage single words, cutting out before getting past the first pronoun.

Pregnant.

"Yeah," Bobbi said to Clint’s shoulder, voice thick and slightly muffled. "Pregnant. Only a couple of weeks, probably."

That hardly seemed like any time at all. Especially with the week they’d been having. How could she know, unless it was all that throwing up she did this morning? That was it, wasn’t it? Or maybe Greer had noticed.

And he was doing it again, thoughts spiraling off uselessly instead of settling on a genuine reaction. So he repeated what he’d said earlier, because he wasn’t done being grateful that they were okay. He felt more than saw her shift her head into the crook of his neck. The steady breaths she took, which made him feel much better than the stuttering breaths from a moment ago.

There was at least one other thing he could add to that, though. She wasn’t stupid, no matter how many times she said that.

Clint felt her lips quirk slightly against him and he cocked his head slightly so he could get a better look at her without jostling her from where she was resting herself. She seemed to be more at ease, and it would be a shame to spoil that. "Yeah, well, I won't win any prizes for remembering appointments," she said, and at least there was some humor in her voice this time.

“It’s been a crazy couple of weeks,” Clint said, stroking his hand over her reassuringly.

Her voice dropped in volume as she added, "This whole thing makes me feel stupid, and I was luckier than I probably should've been today. I really want this kid, Clint[.]" That last statement had Clint nodding in agreement. She’d already confirmed it just by the things she’d said earlier, but it was good to hear the words all the same. "And I almost screwed it up before I even got started."

Clint pressed his lips to her head once more, kissing her through the cap of blonde hair. “But you didn’t, Babe,” he reminded her. “There isn’t enough almost in the world to change that.” He sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. “I want this, too,” he assured her more softly. “Even more, now that it’s happening. And I know you’re going to take good care of yourself.”

Whatever had made her decide to go out today, and he could probably guess at her reasons, he could see that she wasn’t going to take that kind of risk again. Not for something this important.
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Pregnant.

A common word. One you heard almost every day in some context or other. One that you didn't have any idea how damned big it really was until it applied in a personal way. The way it applied to her now. The way Greer had tried to explain to her this morning and she'd only about half-way got.

Bobbi got it now, though. Damned right she got it. Had nearly scared herself to death getting it, and that wasn't something she was used to. Or something she liked. But it was getting better, more under control now. Even if her nerves still felt a little on edge.

This helped, was helping. Managing to get it out, maybe even seeing Hawk as stunned as she was. It might only be a couple of weeks, and she might not win any prizes for remembering appointments, and she might still think she'd been more than a little stupid, no matter what Clint said, but...

It was all getting better. With Clint pulling her in closer. Not mad (or not yet, that might change once it all sank in but she'd deal with that if and when it happened), just glad they were okay.

“It’s been a crazy couple of weeks,” Clint said, stroking his hand over her reassuringly and that was putting it all pretty damned mildly as Bobbi took a few, steadier breaths, head still against his shoulder. Lips quirked up on one side as he turned his head toward her.

"It's been a crazy five years," she couldn't help but add and it wasn't like her to forget something like that. It made her feel stupid, whether she was or not. This whole thing. She was luckier than she had any right to expect today. Luckier than she should've been or that she deserved to be, but god. So glad for that.

She really wanted this kid. Wanted it more than she'd thought she could, now that it was a reality. Didn't really know what she'd do if Clint decided he couldn't handle it after all. If he wasn't really over the worst of everything with Kate the way he thought he was. After today, when she'd almost screwed it all up before it'd even had a chance to start, Bobbi really didn't know how she'd handle that. How they'd handle that.

That scared the hell out of her, too, in those milliseconds before Hawk nodded, pressed a kiss to her hair again. Losing him, going back to that distance between them even when they were right next to each other again, wasn't something she thought she could deal with, either. It tied her up in knots inside, just that fast, for that heartbeat of time that felt like years.

“But you didn’t, Babe,” he reminded her. “There isn’t enough almost in the world to change that.” He sighed and closed his eyes for a moment and she was on pins and needles again, wondering what that sigh meant, exactly. Bracing for...well, she didn't know what, but something. Something that she might not want to hear or wouldn't like. “I want this, too,” he assured her more softly, making those knots loosen and the tension let go. “Even more, now that it’s happening. And I know you’re going to take good care of yourself.”

The breath Bobbi let out then was a relieved one, taking most of the rest of the tension she was carrying out with it. "I'm done with chasing after half-trained kids with super-powers and, the trampy super-villains who brainwashed them, for a while, that's for sure." Whatever else Karla Sofen had done with those teenagers besides brainwashing was something else she'd be happy never knowing. "I scared myself a lot, Hawk," Bobbi confessed, brow creased in distaste. It took a hell of a lot to scare her. She'd never liked that feeling either.

The feeling she did like, that was the one she got when she lifted her head and kissed her husband. The one that made something warm and soft take the place of that cold knot that had been sitting on the middle of her chest. The feeling that finally got rid of the worst of the shakiness before she drew back enough to look at him without going cross-eyed trying to focus.

"Let's not get too carried away with the care-taking, though," she added, brows lifting a little and figuring it might be a good idea for a preemptive strike there, now that she was feeling up to it. "I'm pregnant, not an invalid."

Last half hour or so aside. Unusual circumstances, he couldn't count those, but she knew Clint. So might as well go ahead and get that out there. It might save them both a lot of trouble later.
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A crazy five years. Yeah. That really said it all, didn’t it? It was a wonder more things like appointments hadn’t slipped their minds in all that time. Or bigger. In this case, the timing was a bit interesting, maybe even strangely appropriate, but still understandable in the grand scheme of things.

Not that any of that was likely to discourage Bobbi from beating herself up over it. She didn’t make oversights like that often, even under the worst circumstances. How much worse had Clint made it for her with everything he’d said yesterday in Utah, before they’d worked things out? Before Clint understood how he really felt about all this?

He may as well be saying all those things she was telling herself for her. She probably half expected him to say all of it now.

Almost. He didn’t have to wonder what she meant by that. And it was scary. Terrifying, and yeah, he still wasn’t completely done being grateful that she and the baby were okay. God, he was glad he hadn’t been there or he might be just as bad off as Bobbi right now. But when you stripped everything away, ‘almost’ was essentially the same thing as ‘didn’t.’ She wanted the baby, and just hearing that was enough to ease some of the tension over the whole thing. He wanted it, too. More than he’d imagined he could want something.

And he knew Bobbi. There wasn’t a thing in the world she wouldn’t do to keep the baby safe. She’d take care of herself. They both would.

A breath gusted out of his wife, the sound full of relief. Clint felt her muscles start to relax, the sensation emphasizing just how stressed out she’d really been. "I'm done with chasing after half-trained kids with super-powers and, the trampy super-villains who brainwashed them, for a while, that's for sure." Clint wasn’t sure how much of that he wanted to know. Moonstone had always been ruthless and power hungry. He’d seen for himself just how far she’d go to get what she wanted.

Even if she’d managed to convince Tony and Hank she was on their side, how could they let her near kids? It would be like leaving Alf alone in a cat shelter.

"I scared myself a lot, Hawk," Bobbi said, her expression souring at that. She almost never got scared, and admitted to it even less.

“I know, Birdie,” Clint said. “It’s okay, now.”

She lifted her head toward him and all that momentarily vanished behind the kiss they were now sharing. Clint could almost feel the rest of their shared anxiety melting away at the touch of their lips.

Maybe they should have just started with that.

There was a faint, almost dazed smile on Clint’s face when they pulled away and looked at each other. God, he loved her.

"Let's not get too carried away with the care-taking, though," Bobbi said, then, brows rising meaningfully. Huh? That wasn’t what he expected her to say next at all. "I'm pregnant, not an invalid."

Clint let out a soft chuckle. “You’re amazing, is what you are,” he said. His brows arched a little themselves, then, however, as he tilted his forehead slightly. “But when was the last time you did something twenty-four hours a day for nine straight months?” It wasn’t like she was going to be able to take pregnancy breaks. They were going to have to make some adjustments for her sake. “And the Savage Land doesn’t count,” he added, just in case she was going to try to go with that.

Hell, Surviving the Savage Land might be easier. The people there went through pregnancy all the time.

Actually, Clint wasn’t sure if that helped his argument or not.
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Okay. She was okay. They were both okay. Bobbi set that refrain playing on loop inside her head and it was finally starting to sink in a little. With Clint here and it all out and both of them...stunned as hell, the blonde guessed, being the best word for it right now. But out there all the same and they were dealing with it.

Absorbing it. A lot easier to do when they were doing it together and she'd finally stopped feeling like she might shake apart. Or jump out of her own skin. Not feelings she was used to and damned sure not feelings she liked. Her adult life had been lived going from one scary situation to another. Hell, she liked it that way. Thrived on it. Hawk did, too. Both of them always had. Today, though...

Today she'd scared the hell out of herself. Like she'd never been scared before. So for a while, she was more than done with chasing around after trampy super-villains and their brainwashed, super powered sidekicks.

“I know, Birdie,” Clint said. “It’s okay, now.” When he said it, it was easier to believe than when she told herself and Bobbi did what she probably should've done to start with. Turned her head, tilting it up a little and kissed him. That helped, too. Always had, hoped it always would.

When that was over, Clint was looking a little stunned, still, and it seemed to Bobbi like as good a time as any to point out not to expect her to get too carried away with the caretaking. It wasn't like she didn't know her husband, and how he could get, and she was pregnant. Not disabled. Just because she wasn't going to be running out on high stakes missions for a while didn't mean she was going to sit around and stare at the walls, either.

No matter how high those eyebrows climbed on his forehead and no matter how much she loved him. .

“You’re amazing, is what you are,” Clint answered with a chuckle that got him a lopsided, more relaxed smile, but still not any more leeway. Even when he tilted his forehead toward hers. “But when was the last time you did something twenty-four hours a day for nine straight months?” If Clint thought that was going to get him anywhere? He was more stunned than she'd thought. “And the Savage Land doesn’t count,” Or that.

What the hell did the Savage Land have to do with anything?

"Babe," she started, brows inching up a little more, "it's not like I'm staying up nights knitting the kid," Bobbi couldn't help pointing out, both amused and a little confused, but that was a normal enough feeling. "That's not exactly how it works, and you're back to making me sound like an EZ Bake oven," the former spy told her husband with a still-amused half smirk.

If he thought she was going to sit around, doing nothing, for the next nine months, he was nuts. And by the end of that, she would be, too.
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Better. It may have taken them a while and a lot of worry before they really got to 'okay,' but better? That hardly took any time at all. It looked like the storm of nerves surrounding them both had finally broken.

So of course Bobbi had to chose that moment to hit him with some ground rules.

Of course she wasn't an invalid. Who said anything about her being an invalid? Not Clint. All he'd said was that she'd be taking care of herself, and how could she argue with that? At least telling her how amazing she was got a smile out of her, but he could practically see her digging her heels in anyway. This wasn't going to be easy, was it.

Amazing or not, she was still only human. Just because she wasn't planning to dive head-first into danger didn't mean that it was a good idea for her to go full tilt as much as she usually did. She was going to be pregnant all day, every day, for nine full months. When was the last time she'd done anything like that?

And just in case she was going to bring up the Savage Land, he should probably rule that out now. They weren't the same thing at all.

"Babe, it's not like I'm staying up nights knitting the kid," she said, lifting her brows further. She didn't sound peeved, which was a good thing, but she wasn't really making much sense with that argument. "That's not exactly how it works, and you're back to making me sound like an EZ Bake oven," she added, sort of smirking at him.

Clint furrowed his brow in confusion. Again with the EZ Bake ovens. What did she have against them, anyway?

"Well no," Clint conceded, or protested, depending on which of her remarks she took that as a response to, "but being pregnant is still a lot of work." He actually did know a thing or two about that. He'd seen enough of it from his travelling carnival days. Right now might not be a good time for her to get the impression he was comparing her to an elephant, though. No time would be good for that, so he was just going to keep that to himself.

He gave her hand a light squeeze. "There's nothing wrong with letting me help, is all I'm saying." Releasing her hand, he placed it against his chest, covering his heart. "I promise I won't go overboard."
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When was the last time she did something for twenty four hours a day for nine months? Well, there was breathing, she'd been doing that for a while now. A lot longer than nine months. They could add in cardiac and circulatory function, a working nervous system and constant brain function to all that.

Right now, it was a little in the way of confused, and slightly suspicious (since she did know her husband and suspected she might know where this was headed), brain function, but that'd been going on for a lot longer than nine months, too. God, she wasn't going to be staying up nights knitting the kid out of yarn. Autonomic functions tended to more or less take care of themselves. They'd already handled the major active participation phase of this for a little while.

Still no idea what the hell the Savage Land had to do with anything. Unless he was somehow trying to compare this to a dinosaur nest, and Bobbi thought that would be a stretch to connect those two things, even for Clint. And there he went, making her sound like an Ez-Bake oven again.

Maybe she'd taken chances today she shouldn't have, and wouldn't have if things had been a little different, but if he thought she'd be sitting around staring at the walls for the next nine months, he should think again. Hawk had to know better. That'd never been her and it wouldn't start being her, pregnant or not.

Now he was confused again. Great. At least that made both of them.

"Well no," Clint conceded, or protested, Bobbi wasn't entirely sure which. It didn't make her less suspicious about where this was going, "but being pregnant is still a lot of work." So help her god, if he mentioned one damned circus animal. Or even hinted at one he was trying to use as an example...

"Babe," the blonde interjected, brows going up a little again and caught halfway between bemused and annoyed that her husband was sitting here, trying to tell her all about how pregnancy worked, "remember how I went to medical school?" Maybe she'd gone into research, instead of practice, and then moved on to being a spy, but yeah. They'd covered this part and she was pretty sure Hawk didn't have any more personal experience with this than she did.

If he did, they were going to have to have to move on to a whole other talk.

Clint squeezed her hand and Bobbi wasn't so annoyed that she wouldn't reciprocate, fingers curling tighter around his. "There's nothing wrong with letting me help, is all I'm saying." Releasing her hand, he placed it against his chest, covering his heart. "I promise I won't go overboard."

Bobbi smirked a little, in amusement skepticism. She didn't even try to stop it. He meant it, right now, she was sure. But Clint Barton? Overboard was practically his middle name.

Hand lifting to cover his where it rested against her chest, Mockingbird paused to consider it. Or at least paused to make it seem like she was. "Don't worry, Hawk. You already helped. That's how this happened." He wasn't so stunned he'd forgot that part of how this all worked, she hoped. "But okay. How about you carry the kid every other weekend, then," she proposed, barely suppressing a grin, since she wasn't sure what else he could really help with for a while. Other than dealing with whatever hormones decided to do with or to her the next few months.

They still had enough mad scientists around here that Bobbi was pretty sure it wouldn't be all that hard to make that happen.
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