A/N: In which we meet Clintasha. Little bit of language, but otherwise it's fine.
Natasha's POV
The light faded abruptly, and her vision cleared, revealing an oak forest. But everything was off. The smells were too sharp, the colors were too bright, and the sounds were too loud. Then she tried standing, and realized why everything felt different. She was a cat. Her fur was the same shade as her own hair, and she knew, somehow, that her eyes were the same shade of green. But she still felt weird. Then she thought about the baby.
She collapsed to the ground, yowling in grief, pressing her front paws to her stomach.
But she felt a small lump there, and it shifted under the pressure.
Her yowl died in her throat, and she collected herself. She looked around and her eyes fell on a lump of tabby blond fur a yard away. She raced up to it, and prodded it. Clint groaned, rolled over, and opened his (Thank God) blue eyes. They widened, and he tripped over himself to get up. "Jesus Christ, Nat! What the fuck happened?!"
"Loki, unless that laughter was a figment of my imagination.", Natasha stated, rather calm for someone who had just had a panic attack over her potential miscarriage.
"I'm gonna kill that bastard", spat Clint, his tail lashing.
"I second that motion, but unless we scope this place out, we'll never...". Natasha trailed off.
Clint walked up to her, licked her shoulder comfortingly, and said "We will get home, and we will beat Loki into a pulp. All we have to do right now is look around and see what the asshat throws at us. OK?"
Natasha nodded. "OK"
But suddenly, Clint's eyes widened in panic, and his gaze darted toward her belly, his unspoken question obvious. Natasha gave him a firm look and said in Russian, "We're both OK".
His shoulders sagged with relief, and his eyes grew visibly calmer. "Shall we go?", asking in the same language.
Natasha nodded and said "Let's go."
That was when two more cats dropped out of the trees, right in front of them.
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A/N: We meet Percabeth next!
Disclaimer: I don't even own an OC.
