Clint:
Her eyes are tired but she needs to wind down with her Nook before bed. Her breathing eases and her hands slip as she falls asleep. The Nook bounces to the bed, A Clash of Swords glaring brightly in her face before fading to a dull glow then to a black screen.
Natasha is asleep, snoring gently, worn out, and Clint can't stop staring.
He leans over and pull the covers up, smoothing the blankets that halo around her, glancing down at the rather severe cut on her cheekbone.
Some henchman with a pocketknife who got lucky, well...as lucky as he could have gotten before one of Clint's arrows "snick'd" right into his heart.
Nobody messes with Clint's 'Tasha.
Clint settles in, an arm behind his head, and closes his eyes; not fully asleep, not fully awake - a watchful hawk.
Natasha:
She cracks an eye open when Clint's breathing becomes less ragged and she can hear his heartbeat slow to a resting rate.
Sue her: She's got killer instincts, hearing included.
As soon as her hawk's asleep, she settles into her side of the bed, facing the shitty motel window, away from Clint.
5...4...3...2...1...
An arm covers her and tugs her closer. She smiles.
That's the only way she knows he's asleep; he would never grab her if he wasn't.
Clint breathes in deeply as he slumbers and Natasha laces her fingers with his.
It's the only time they're allowed to be vulnerable with anyone, especially each other.
And when HYDRA henchmen burst through the door a few minutes later, it's like nothing happened.
But the next time they have an opportunity to split up, one will say "Just one room needed. Just one bed. Save on cost."
They both know they're better together than apart...whatever together means.