I’d love if you could write a fic where Katie is a few months old and sick (not seriously maybe just a cold or an ear infection). Nat and Clint have a night where they’re up with her all night because she’s crying and sick. Nat is rocking her in her arms while Clint warms a bottle up or something. Just domestic clintasha one night featuring their poor lil sick baby girl. Fluffy parent clintasha :) thank yooou xx
The baby monitor crackled to life with the sound of Katie’s cries, sharp and miserable in the quiet of the apartment. Natasha was already awake—she had been for a while, listening to her daughter toss and turn, sniffling through her blocked nose.
Now, with her wailing in full force, Natasha was already moving before Clint could even groan awake beside her.
“I got her,” she murmured, pressing a quick kiss to his shoulder as she slipped out of bed.
Clint groaned again, rubbing his face. “You sure?”
She stepped into Katie’s nursery, where their tiny, red-faced daughter was lying in her crib, fists clenched, looking utterly miserable. Natasha’s heart ached instantly.
“Hey, baby…” she murmured, scooping Katie up into her arms. The moment she did, Katie turned her face against her chest, still sniffling, her cries hiccuping into little whimpers. Her skin was warm, her little nose pink from rubbing against the blankets.
An ear infection. That’s what the doctor had said earlier in the day. Not serious, but uncomfortable, especially for someone so small.
Natasha swayed on instinct, rubbing small circles into Katie’s back. “I know, I know, detka. It’s not fair, huh?”
Katie sniffled and whimpered again.
Behind her, Clint shuffled into the room, half-asleep but awake enough to function.
“How’s our little archer?” he asked, voice thick with exhaustion.
“Unhappy,” Natasha murmured.
“I hear that.” Clint ran a hand through his messy hair, then yawned. “I’ll warm up a bottle. Maybe it’ll help settle her.”
Natasha nodded, and Clint disappeared into the kitchen, leaving her alone with Katie again.
She pressed a kiss to her daughter’s forehead, gently bouncing her. “You know,” she murmured, “you’re lucky you’re cute, because otherwise, your papa and I would be very grumpy about staying up all night.”
Katie shifted, blinking up at her, her big, glassy eyes searching Natasha’s face like she was taking in every word.
Natasha sighed, kissing the tiny furrow between her brows. “Fine. I’d still love you, even if you weren’t cute.”
Clint returned a few minutes later, bottle in hand. “Alright, little lady, let’s see if this helps.”
They settled onto the couch together—Natasha cradling Katie while Clint handed over the bottle. Katie, for all her fussing, latched onto it immediately, her little hands clutching at Natasha’s fingers.
For a few blissful moments, there was silence.
Clint exhaled, resting his head against the back of the couch. “Man. I thought staying up all night on missions was bad. This is way worse.”
Natasha huffed out a quiet laugh, shifting Katie so she could stroke her tiny curls. “At least no one is shooting at us.”
They sat in companionable exhaustion, watching as Katie’s blinking slowed, her little body relaxing as the warmth of the milk and Natasha’s touch soothed her.
By the time she finished, her breathing had evened out, her tiny fingers still curled around Natasha’s thumb.
Natasha exhaled softly. “Finally.”
Clint grinned. “Think we can sneak her back into the crib without waking her up?”
Katie let out a sudden loud sneeze, startling both of them.
Clint groaned. “I’ll make coffee.”
Natasha sighed, shifting Katie more securely in her arms. “Yeah. We’re not sleeping tonight.”
But as she looked down at her peaceful, sleeping daughter, warm and safe in her arms, she thought—
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