OK.. I have been keeping this in my notebook for a looong time now... deciding whether or not I really wanted to share it. I wrote this because, I admit it.. I LIKE Clintasha baby fanfics, and there just aren't many out there!! And the ones that ARE out there, the authors never seem to finish. They get bored, or I guess just don't know how to tie it up. I've read a few good ones that I wanted to see through to this point, but... they were left unfinished. So, this comes from where I think those few good baby fanfics have left off. There was a lot of thought and sentiment put into this, as silly as it sounds.. So if you're reading it, I hope you'll like it, and I hope, like me, you can see it picking up where the others left off.
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"Alianovna"
To any casual observer that would be standing in the delivery room, watching them, they would never know that this scenario is not normal.
It's just the two of them, right now, though one of the nurses assisting Bruce keeps coming in every so often to check on the progress, and Bruce has popped in a few times to make sure everything is coming along as it should, it's a very private, and natural affair.
Natasha refused any pain medications. It was something she had already pre-planned in her mind. Preganancy, labor, and delivery of a child were never supposed to happen for her, and if it never happens again, she wants to know what it all felt like, even the worst of it. She takes every contraction pretty calmly, even as they are coming closer together and lasting longer than they were before.
Clint has never left her side since their arrival, not once. He's held her hand stroked her hair, rubbed her back through bad contractions, whispered encouraging words in her ear through the pain. No body but Natasha knows that in his wallet, he carries a small print from their last ultrasound. "Her first baby picture!" he beamed proudly to Natasha.. and everyone else that he showed it to.. on the day it was taken. Natasha didn't know that every night, after she's been asleep, that he's taken that picture out of his wallet and studied it in the moonlight, the shape of their baby's face. imagining what it would feel like to finally see her face, hold her close. Trying to imagine if she would have Natasha's round face shape, his eyes, what color her hair would be...
It wasn't normal; two master assassins were bringing a life into the world. A life they had created. A life they would be responsible for keeping alive and maintaining it's health and well being. It wasn't normal. that the two of them had never experienced loving, safe family atmospheres, and were now determined to provide what they had never had to their baby. It wasn't normal that at home, in their bedroom, beside their bed was a small white bassinet ready for their daughter, and under both of their pillows were weapons ready to be drawn on a moment's notice. No, it wasn't normal. But she would be safe. Protected. Loved. Because they were determined that it was going to be that way.
But at a glance, no one would even think or notice that. Natasha was on the bed, on her knees, hands gripping the headboard as a hard contraction wracked her body. She moans just a bit, and Clint rubs her lower back, easing some of the pressure until the contraction is finished.
Yes, it all looks normal. She turns her head to look at him, her hair tied back and damp with perspiration from the hours. She lets out a small breath and manages to give him a small smile. "I love you, you know."
He smiles back at her before leaning forward to kiss her damp hair, gently. "I know."
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