Natasha's eyes flew open as she gasped for air. She felt a sharp pain in her wrist as she noticed she'd been clinging on to it and grasping it with her nails. She saw several scratches, a few of them were bleeding. She was covered in a cold, clinging sheen of sweat that began to suffocate her. She sat up in her bed and looked around her room, her eyes rapidly darting around. Her breathing slowly became less urgent but they were still long and scared. She wiped her brow and pinched the bridge of her nose. She sighed.

It was only a dream. The same horrible dream she'd had before. She's running down a hall, a gun grasped tightly in her hand. She hears footsteps behind her. She feels an arrow glide past her hip as she dodges to avoid a gunshot. She swerves around and sees Clint Barton aiming an arrow at her eyes. She secures a grip on her gun as she lunges forward, dodging the first few shots whilst taking him to the ground. He gets back up immediately and throws a punch which hits her cheekbone and sends her flying backwards, blinded slightly by the punch. Barton readies another shot but she pulls her gun up and aims it at his head. For a second, she sees a glimmer of fear and almost regret in the assassins eyes. She eases her finger on the trigger and he pulls the arrow back further.

And that's when she always wakes up.

She got up and slung her silky black dressing down around her shoulders. She opened her door and headed down towards the seating room. She passed the rooms of her colleagues. She passed Clint's room and the dream was brought vividly back to her and she shivered and moved swiftly on. She quietly crept into the room and sat down on one of the sofas.

"Natasha?"

Natasha's heart leapt and she swerved around hurriedly. She saw Steve standing in the doorway to the kitchen.
"Sorry," Steve said. Natasha laughed,
"No! It's not your fault. I'm a bit jumpy, I suppose." Natasha explained, budging up and summoning Steve over. Steve sat, leaving a large gap between him and Natasha. Natasha looked at him and had an idea.
"Wait there!" she said, leaping from her seat and going into the kitchen. She put the kettle on and spooned hot chocolate into two cups. She also popped two chocolate pop-tarts into the toaster, "Do you like chocolate?"
"Yeah, why?" Steve asked as Natasha came back in and sat down.
"I thought we'd have a midnight feast... if that's okay with you." Natasha said. Steve grinned sweetly and blushed.
"Yes, of course... thank you." He said. Natasha blushed and skipped off to the kitchen to finish preparations.

She squirted cream on to the hot chocolates and sprinkled mini marshmallows on the top. She took the pop-tarts out of the taster and brought the feast in.

Steve smiled at first but then gasped in horror,
"But... they're... Thor's pop-tarts! He'll kill us!" he exclaimed, his eyes darting from the plate to Natasha's face. She laughed at his 'Are you out of your mind?' face.
"He'll never know it was us." She smiled, taking one and biting it. Steve still looked wary of the pop-tarts.

"Did you have a nightmare?" Natasha asked warily. Steve looked at her and then at the floor.
"Yes." He answered.
"So did I." She said. Steve looked up from the floor and into Natasha's eyes. His face was plastered in concern.
"What? Oh my god, are you okay? Was it bad?" Steve asked, taking Natasha's hand without thinking.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Are you?" She asked.
"Yes, Yeah, I'm fine." Steve answered, his hand was still grasping hers. He suddenly realised and took it away, blushing ferociously.

Natasha took it back.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

I'm going to write a Christmassy, funny fanfiction next! What do you think? I hope you enjoyed!