This is not BTB. I am aware. I need to switch things up. I feel.... this story is what I work on when I feel like shit or my life is shit and it's been both of those things in the past 24 hours and I just.... double update? This story and BTB (I can't really afford to get behind on publishing that one). Let's see.... APPLICABLE WARNINGS: Omorashi. Desperation, wetting, peeing in a stone cell. Mentions of kidnapping (What? it's BLACK WIDOW and HAWKEYE). Think that should cover the bases.
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Chapter 4:
Natasha began to hyperventilate. This wasn't supposed to happen. They were just going to get tampons from fucking WALMART of all places!!
"Tasha, come on, I need you to breathe," Clint said, calmly, pacing around the cold, tiny cell. She assumed he was trying to find an escape route. She couldn't think. All she could feel was fear. THAT was the problem with emotions! WHY did her stupid doctors not see that?!
"We're gonna die," She choked out, shaking. "We're gonna die we're gonna die we're gonna die oh God Clint we're gonna die!"
Clint slowly wrapped his arms around her sobbing form. "Tasha, we're not gonna die. They didn't even take my phone. These guys are amateurs, they just gagged us and threw us in here. Phil's gathering up the team and he said he'd be here as fast as he could."
"Why can't we just escape?" She asked, sniffling miserably.
"Cuz rule number one when you're captured is decide what keeps you the safest. And as long as no one comes in to beat us up, it's probably safer in here than out there."
"But um..." She bit her lip and squirmed.
"Oh. Uhm..." Clint blushed. It had to be with a girl on a late night tampon run. It just HAD to be. If it were Phil he would have just told him not to be stupid and to just piss in the corner. But Tasha was.... a GIRL. Yes that was sexist thinking but he was a boy and she was essentially a civilian, despite the fact that she had once been a vicious killer.
"I'll just wait," She said, though in all actuality she had had to go since before they left. Clint chewed his lip.
"Tash..."
"And what alternative is there in this stupid stone cell?" She asked, still shaking. He shrugged. He'd been captured enough to know not to expect much from your captors. "God I wish I had Pinkie Bear...."
"I know Tash. Come on, let's just rest. Who knows how long until something happens?" Clint said. Natasha nodded, simply sinking to the ground against a wall. Clint sat next to her, silently offering his support. Natasha curled up against him. This whole ordeal had been exhausting and she just wanted to rest. Her eyes slowly drifted closed against her will.
* * *
Someone was screaming. That was the first thing he realized as he woke up. Then everything else hit him: Captured, cell, torture... His eyes flew open as he hopped to his feet, not realizing Tasha had fallen asleep. She gasped as she awoke too, tears in her eyes. Clint settled down and slipped back in to the spot next to her. Never mind his own body needing something, she was more important.
"Clint," She sobbed.
"Shh, I'm here," He breathed, wrapping an arm around her shaking form. "I'm here Tasha, you're safe."
"When is Phil coming?" She whimpered, a hand resting on her thigh.
"Soon. He probably has to clear it with Fury and that always takes ages, especially when it's.... almost midnight," He sighed. "He'll be here, I promise. How are you holding up?"
Natasha winced at the words, squirming even more. "I just want my bear and to be back home," She whimpered, not even trying to hide the hand in her crotch.
Clint winced. "You're not gonna like me," He sighed. "I have to pee too."
"Great. Just great," She muttered.
Clint shrugged. "I'm wondering if our captors aren't just perverts," He mumbled, shifting. "Ugh, I know how this ends. Are you gonna be okay if, um..."
"Your body, your choice," She said, repeating what they kept telling her.
He smiled sadly at her. "You know you could..."
"Not a chance. I'm a lady," She sighed. He nodded, walking to the farthest corner away from her. She squirmed even more. Falling asleep had been a mistake. She had woken up dry, but it felt like she had been dealt double the hot golden liquid in place of an accident. She didn't dare think of what Clint was doing, or how the sound of liquid hitting the floor only made her bladder throb painfully, or the fact that their captors had yet to come in an bug them. Seriously, you'd think if they wanted the Black Widow and a freakishly accurate assassin at their disposal, they would have made their demands by now. Unless... Oh no. Unless this was just a stop on the way to where they were really headed. "Ah!" Her panties got damp as she panicked.
"What is it?" Clint asked, finishing and re-situating himself before he joined her on the floor.
"What if this is just stop number one? What if they're waiting on someone else to come get us? Or to kill us?" She asked.
"Then Phil will stop them," He said.
"How can you have so much blind faith in him?" She asked. "He hasn't shown up yet."
"Because he said so. Phil keeps his word Tasha," Clint said, rubbing her back.
"Tell me about how you two met," She whimpered, needing a distraction from the constant throbbing of her bladder. Clint saw this and regailed her on how he had had a shitty childhood and shitty teen years that sort of culminated into the epic fail that was joining the circus/crime team. At some point he realized how much trouble he was in if he didn't get out, and that's sort of how he and Phil came into contact, because he informed the authorities of how he knew about plans to rob Stark Industries. He was explaining how he and Phil finally confessed their undying love for each other (Clint's words, not hers), when Natasha's poor bladder finally gave out.
She whimpered when she felt the seat of her jeans getting absolutely drenched as she whimpered. "I'm so-"
"Shhh, you tried so hard Tasha. It's okay," Clint cooed. She simply could not fight it anymore and leaned into him, simply sobbing again. Damn emotions. Damn everything. When the torrent from between her legs finally died off, she let herself slump against Clint.
"Well fuck," She coughed out. She would have said more but suddenly there were sounds of someone approaching. This was it, they were going to die. Except... she could hear gunfire. And... fighting? She paled when she realized that, just like Clint had promised, Phil had come for them. Suddenly the door was kicked in, and there, in a bullet-proof vest, was Phil Coulson, and a one-eyed pirate spy.
"Director," Clint said, pulling the two of them to their feet. "I-I can explain..."
"Good, you can explain why SHIELD is harboring fugitives in my office when we get back," The pirate-spy said. "Oh, and you forgot something." He chunked the box of tampons at his head, and Clint caught them. Natasha whimpered but felt Clint's firm arms around her.
"You're okay. You're not going anywhere Tasha," He said firmly, anger taking over his features. Phil handed her Pinkie Bear from inside his vest. Well, at least if she was going to rot in a goverment prison, she wouldn't be alone.
* * *
Things were quite a flurry when they returned. Everyone either gasped or snickered when they saw the deadly Black Widow in soaked pants. There were, however, two agents who gave her sympathetic smiles and offered to go with her back to Clint's quarters. In fact, one girl- Tina, she was pretty sure that was her name- Planted herself directly by Natasha's side while she waited outside the directors office for Clint.
"You're not the first person," She said, handing Natasha a blanket. "They say it happens to most people the first time they get captured. At least the stubborn ones. They told us in training its a good way to end up with wet clothes and a head cold and to just suck it up and piss in the corner."
"In Russia they taught us to hold it and if we piss ourselves we will be beaten and made to lick up the mess," She said plainly, snuggling into the blanket.
"Well, you're in America now, things are different," Tina shrugged. It was then when they heard Clint swear and Phil poked his head out.
"Tasha, we could really use you right now," He said. "Thank you for watching out for her Tina."
"No problem Agent Coulson," She smiled. Natasha took a shaky breath, kept a firm grip on her bear as she walked into the spy-pirate's office.
"Natasha, this is Director Fury," Phil explained. "He was unaware that we had taken you in as a refugee and would like to ask you a few questions."
"And he BETTER NOT shoot you," Clint added icily. Natasha gulped. This was so bad.
"Just sit," Director Fury snapped. She hesitantly sat down in the only leather chair she found, which was directly in front of his desk. "Listen red-head. I am in charge of everything around here. That rescue? Me. Your treatment? Me. That purple bird brain who seems to think you won't kill anyone? My best agent. And he seems to be pretty protective over you. Is that true?"
Natasha nodded shyly. "Clint kept me calm and quiet and distracted until you and Phil came for us," She said quietly.
"Phil? He let's you call him Phil?!" The director asked angrily, earning himself a snarl from Clint. "Look.... Natasha. You've got them wrapped around your fingers. I, on the other hand, am not so easy to persuade. You've made quite a mess of my jobs lately and I do not appreciate it."
"Director..." Natasha started, making him look at her eerily with his one good eye. "I.... I didn't get much of a choice in who I was or what I did before. And the side effects of what I did aren't that great either. But... I want to be good. I want to make up for what I did. Somehow. Clint said he's my handler and I do what he says, and that he won't make me do anything I don't feel okay doing. Phil- Coulson, whoever, seems to trust him. I haven't killed anyone yet, have I?"
"Tasha-" Phil started, before the director silenced him.
"You said yet. Are you planning a murder? Or a mass killing-spree I should know of?"
"No sir. Clint wants me to be a normal human, or at least not a serial killer. I'm working on that in therapy," She said nervously.
The director seemed to think about this for a minute. "And you're taking full responsibility for her and all of her actions Barton?" He asked. Clint gave the angriest nod she had ever seen, and that seemed to be enough for the director, who turned to her. "Listen well, because I do not repeat myself. You are to do whatever that man says. He says go to therapy, you do it. He says sneeze, you do it. Cause any more problems, and I will not hesitate to throw your ass in my very cushy jail cell, got it?"
Natasha gulped, but nodded. That seemed to be the end of it, and soon she and Clint were on their way back to their quarters. Pinkie Bear seemed to sense that they were okay, and that Clint was just being a stubborn, overprotective man. Somehow Natasha was okay with that. For the first time in a long time, she slept dreamlessly and peacefully that night. Even when she woke up at five in the morning to wet sheets, it didn't seem so bad. As long as Clint was around, she knew that no matter what happened, he would keep the two of them safe.
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Chapter 4:
Natasha began to hyperventilate. This wasn't supposed to happen. They were just going to get tampons from fucking WALMART of all places!!
"Tasha, come on, I need you to breathe," Clint said, calmly, pacing around the cold, tiny cell. She assumed he was trying to find an escape route. She couldn't think. All she could feel was fear. THAT was the problem with emotions! WHY did her stupid doctors not see that?!
"We're gonna die," She choked out, shaking. "We're gonna die we're gonna die we're gonna die oh God Clint we're gonna die!"
Clint slowly wrapped his arms around her sobbing form. "Tasha, we're not gonna die. They didn't even take my phone. These guys are amateurs, they just gagged us and threw us in here. Phil's gathering up the team and he said he'd be here as fast as he could."
"Why can't we just escape?" She asked, sniffling miserably.
"Cuz rule number one when you're captured is decide what keeps you the safest. And as long as no one comes in to beat us up, it's probably safer in here than out there."
"But um..." She bit her lip and squirmed.
"Oh. Uhm..." Clint blushed. It had to be with a girl on a late night tampon run. It just HAD to be. If it were Phil he would have just told him not to be stupid and to just piss in the corner. But Tasha was.... a GIRL. Yes that was sexist thinking but he was a boy and she was essentially a civilian, despite the fact that she had once been a vicious killer.
"I'll just wait," She said, though in all actuality she had had to go since before they left. Clint chewed his lip.
"Tash..."
"And what alternative is there in this stupid stone cell?" She asked, still shaking. He shrugged. He'd been captured enough to know not to expect much from your captors. "God I wish I had Pinkie Bear...."
"I know Tash. Come on, let's just rest. Who knows how long until something happens?" Clint said. Natasha nodded, simply sinking to the ground against a wall. Clint sat next to her, silently offering his support. Natasha curled up against him. This whole ordeal had been exhausting and she just wanted to rest. Her eyes slowly drifted closed against her will.
* * *
Someone was screaming. That was the first thing he realized as he woke up. Then everything else hit him: Captured, cell, torture... His eyes flew open as he hopped to his feet, not realizing Tasha had fallen asleep. She gasped as she awoke too, tears in her eyes. Clint settled down and slipped back in to the spot next to her. Never mind his own body needing something, she was more important.
"Clint," She sobbed.
"Shh, I'm here," He breathed, wrapping an arm around her shaking form. "I'm here Tasha, you're safe."
"When is Phil coming?" She whimpered, a hand resting on her thigh.
"Soon. He probably has to clear it with Fury and that always takes ages, especially when it's.... almost midnight," He sighed. "He'll be here, I promise. How are you holding up?"
Natasha winced at the words, squirming even more. "I just want my bear and to be back home," She whimpered, not even trying to hide the hand in her crotch.
Clint winced. "You're not gonna like me," He sighed. "I have to pee too."
"Great. Just great," She muttered.
Clint shrugged. "I'm wondering if our captors aren't just perverts," He mumbled, shifting. "Ugh, I know how this ends. Are you gonna be okay if, um..."
"Your body, your choice," She said, repeating what they kept telling her.
He smiled sadly at her. "You know you could..."
"Not a chance. I'm a lady," She sighed. He nodded, walking to the farthest corner away from her. She squirmed even more. Falling asleep had been a mistake. She had woken up dry, but it felt like she had been dealt double the hot golden liquid in place of an accident. She didn't dare think of what Clint was doing, or how the sound of liquid hitting the floor only made her bladder throb painfully, or the fact that their captors had yet to come in an bug them. Seriously, you'd think if they wanted the Black Widow and a freakishly accurate assassin at their disposal, they would have made their demands by now. Unless... Oh no. Unless this was just a stop on the way to where they were really headed. "Ah!" Her panties got damp as she panicked.
"What is it?" Clint asked, finishing and re-situating himself before he joined her on the floor.
"What if this is just stop number one? What if they're waiting on someone else to come get us? Or to kill us?" She asked.
"Then Phil will stop them," He said.
"How can you have so much blind faith in him?" She asked. "He hasn't shown up yet."
"Because he said so. Phil keeps his word Tasha," Clint said, rubbing her back.
"Tell me about how you two met," She whimpered, needing a distraction from the constant throbbing of her bladder. Clint saw this and regailed her on how he had had a shitty childhood and shitty teen years that sort of culminated into the epic fail that was joining the circus/crime team. At some point he realized how much trouble he was in if he didn't get out, and that's sort of how he and Phil came into contact, because he informed the authorities of how he knew about plans to rob Stark Industries. He was explaining how he and Phil finally confessed their undying love for each other (Clint's words, not hers), when Natasha's poor bladder finally gave out.
She whimpered when she felt the seat of her jeans getting absolutely drenched as she whimpered. "I'm so-"
"Shhh, you tried so hard Tasha. It's okay," Clint cooed. She simply could not fight it anymore and leaned into him, simply sobbing again. Damn emotions. Damn everything. When the torrent from between her legs finally died off, she let herself slump against Clint.
"Well fuck," She coughed out. She would have said more but suddenly there were sounds of someone approaching. This was it, they were going to die. Except... she could hear gunfire. And... fighting? She paled when she realized that, just like Clint had promised, Phil had come for them. Suddenly the door was kicked in, and there, in a bullet-proof vest, was Phil Coulson, and a one-eyed pirate spy.
"Director," Clint said, pulling the two of them to their feet. "I-I can explain..."
"Good, you can explain why SHIELD is harboring fugitives in my office when we get back," The pirate-spy said. "Oh, and you forgot something." He chunked the box of tampons at his head, and Clint caught them. Natasha whimpered but felt Clint's firm arms around her.
"You're okay. You're not going anywhere Tasha," He said firmly, anger taking over his features. Phil handed her Pinkie Bear from inside his vest. Well, at least if she was going to rot in a goverment prison, she wouldn't be alone.
* * *
Things were quite a flurry when they returned. Everyone either gasped or snickered when they saw the deadly Black Widow in soaked pants. There were, however, two agents who gave her sympathetic smiles and offered to go with her back to Clint's quarters. In fact, one girl- Tina, she was pretty sure that was her name- Planted herself directly by Natasha's side while she waited outside the directors office for Clint.
"You're not the first person," She said, handing Natasha a blanket. "They say it happens to most people the first time they get captured. At least the stubborn ones. They told us in training its a good way to end up with wet clothes and a head cold and to just suck it up and piss in the corner."
"In Russia they taught us to hold it and if we piss ourselves we will be beaten and made to lick up the mess," She said plainly, snuggling into the blanket.
"Well, you're in America now, things are different," Tina shrugged. It was then when they heard Clint swear and Phil poked his head out.
"Tasha, we could really use you right now," He said. "Thank you for watching out for her Tina."
"No problem Agent Coulson," She smiled. Natasha took a shaky breath, kept a firm grip on her bear as she walked into the spy-pirate's office.
"Natasha, this is Director Fury," Phil explained. "He was unaware that we had taken you in as a refugee and would like to ask you a few questions."
"And he BETTER NOT shoot you," Clint added icily. Natasha gulped. This was so bad.
"Just sit," Director Fury snapped. She hesitantly sat down in the only leather chair she found, which was directly in front of his desk. "Listen red-head. I am in charge of everything around here. That rescue? Me. Your treatment? Me. That purple bird brain who seems to think you won't kill anyone? My best agent. And he seems to be pretty protective over you. Is that true?"
Natasha nodded shyly. "Clint kept me calm and quiet and distracted until you and Phil came for us," She said quietly.
"Phil? He let's you call him Phil?!" The director asked angrily, earning himself a snarl from Clint. "Look.... Natasha. You've got them wrapped around your fingers. I, on the other hand, am not so easy to persuade. You've made quite a mess of my jobs lately and I do not appreciate it."
"Director..." Natasha started, making him look at her eerily with his one good eye. "I.... I didn't get much of a choice in who I was or what I did before. And the side effects of what I did aren't that great either. But... I want to be good. I want to make up for what I did. Somehow. Clint said he's my handler and I do what he says, and that he won't make me do anything I don't feel okay doing. Phil- Coulson, whoever, seems to trust him. I haven't killed anyone yet, have I?"
"Tasha-" Phil started, before the director silenced him.
"You said yet. Are you planning a murder? Or a mass killing-spree I should know of?"
"No sir. Clint wants me to be a normal human, or at least not a serial killer. I'm working on that in therapy," She said nervously.
The director seemed to think about this for a minute. "And you're taking full responsibility for her and all of her actions Barton?" He asked. Clint gave the angriest nod she had ever seen, and that seemed to be enough for the director, who turned to her. "Listen well, because I do not repeat myself. You are to do whatever that man says. He says go to therapy, you do it. He says sneeze, you do it. Cause any more problems, and I will not hesitate to throw your ass in my very cushy jail cell, got it?"
Natasha gulped, but nodded. That seemed to be the end of it, and soon she and Clint were on their way back to their quarters. Pinkie Bear seemed to sense that they were okay, and that Clint was just being a stubborn, overprotective man. Somehow Natasha was okay with that. For the first time in a long time, she slept dreamlessly and peacefully that night. Even when she woke up at five in the morning to wet sheets, it didn't seem so bad. As long as Clint was around, she knew that no matter what happened, he would keep the two of them safe.
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