Natasha awoke quite early. Glancing at the alarm to her right, she noted it was only 6 AM, and yet she was instantly wide awake. Sometimes that happened, and whether or not it was her heightened senses or emotional insecurities, she preferred not to question. The arms wrapped around her were warm, and she dreaded getting out of the embrace, but once she was awake, there was no use in even trying to resume sleeping. Gently, she removed the arm that was draped across her, and climbed out of bed. She was clad in tight black spandex boy-shorts and a lacy bra as she tiptoed across the hotel room floor and to the bathroom. Her partner was still asleep; she could hear him breathing evenly in fact. How blissful it must be to sleep so peacefully sometimes… Natasha did not know it, for she never slept peacefully, and hadn't since she was 8 years old. She didn't turn on the light until she shut the bathroom door quietly, and then she glanced at her slender form in the mirror. All the assassin saw were insecurities; flaws. Brushing a stray curl from her face, she splashed some water over her pale skin to wake her, and then froze. From the corner of her eye, she could see someone there, the bathroom light creeping out into the darkened hotel room. Her muscles tensed, her heart sped. A thousand and one maneuvers ran through her head. The agent could spin on her heel and disable with her right arm, and then take a quick choke-hold with her left. She could back-kick in the groin and then dart out for her gun on the nightstand. Did she have time? Was the person of a build to be able to take her easily, or did she have a stable fight? Making the decision split-second, she spun on her heel effortlessly and went to sink her fist into the person's jaw, only for the contact never to be made. Instead her hand was caught in the air, and she was staring into her lover's eyes. "Woah, woah Tasha, it's just me." Letting out a long breath, she sighed. "Don't scare me like that…" The subject changed so fast that Clint couldn't even reply. "I didn't think you'd be up this early…you aren't really what I would call a morning person…." She flashed a smile, but the male only sighed. She was hiding so much, he could tell, but only because he knew her so well. Had he not known her for 10 years, he would have assumed everything was fine, but by now the hawk was used to her hidden emotions and all the façade. Of course he would never push her, never make her uncomfortable by questioning or coddling, but it always bothered him. Her smiles were like mirrors sometimes, and her gestures dramatized. She played her part, and that was typically it. That wasn't to say she wasn't happy, or that she didn't love him; she was just battling her own demons; always. Taking her hands gently, he kissed her lovingly. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to barge in like that, but I was…." Change it before it gets touchy and upsets her. "…I was hoping to catch a glimpse of you before you got dressed…." (What he meant was: I was worried something was wrong because I know there's so much I will never know about you, and I'm trying hard to be of help, but I don't ever want to overwhelm) Natasha smiled, hitting him playfully. "Really? Stop being immature!" (What she meant was: I'm fine, don't worry) "I was actually getting in the shower, so if you're getting in, shed fast." (That meant: Thank you for worrying, please stay because I need you right now) "Roger that." (To which he meant: Of course sweetheart, I'm here) With that, the two agents had a shower together, the smaller curled right up into the other as they stayed silent. The unspoken words didn't need to be said, for the two understood what the other meant every time. Hand-in-hand they played off one another, comforting each other's sins, and holding their heads above the tides for as long as they needed too. The End.