He barely even greets her before she’s talking, “Can you come home, Clint? I need to talk to you.” He can here the worry in her voice which is why he doesn’t question her unusual ask.
“Sure thing, Tash. I’ll be home soon.” And he leaves the SHEILD base without questioning her further. If she wants to talk to him at home, that’s where she’ll do it.
When he gets home he doesn’t expect her to be sitting looking at her hands in the armchair. Normally she’s training when he gets back, or in the kitchen playing with the microwave or the kettle, the latter especially if she knows he’ll be back soon. “Are you okay, Tash?” he asks her, his forehead creased with worry. Her response was muffled but he’s still pretty certain he heard what she said, he’s a trained assassin, he can hear when you’re about to blink let alone here what his wife is mumbling on the other side of the room. “What did you say, Tash?” he asks anyway.
“I’m pregnant.” she says more definitely that time with a shrug. He keeps looking at her. He doesn’t know how to react, every part of his insides his jumping with joy but she doesn’t look as if she’s joining his pleasure.
“So what’s wrong?”
“Didn’t you hear me, Clint? I’m pregnant. This is a disaster.”
“We can do this, Tash.”
“We’re trained assassins, Clint, we can’t raise a child!” She said, her voice raising, if they still lived in Stark Tower the whole place would have heard.
For a few days they leave it at that. Natasha doesn’t do anything about it and Clint doesn’t mention it to anyone. Then later one night they’re sat up in their apartment, Clint swilling his liquor around in his glass. “We really could do it, you know.” he says, nearly out of the blue, even though they have both been thinking about it non-stop for days.
“Why do you think we’d be any good at it?” She asks him.
“You.” His answer is simple and he doesn’t need to think about it.