"Tasha."

It was her name on his lips, moaned quietly in another room, that pulled her from a dreamless sleep. At first, she stayed in her bed, not sure what had woken her, until she heard it again.

"Tasha!" The call was still weak, but more insistent this time, more urgent. Natasha tossed the covers away from herself and slipped off of her bed, bare feet hitting the hard floor softly. The chilly floorboards chased the drowsiness from her mind as she crossed the room and crept into the hallway, then opened the door directly opposite hers. She entered the dark room soundlessly and shut the door behind her.

She could hear him before her eyes adjusted to the dark. He was crying out, but hoarsely, as if he thought something were stopping him from actually screaming. Natasha approached his bed and took a seat on the edge of it, near his head.

"Clint."

He shuddered and swung an arm out towards her, but didn't open his eyes.

"Clint?" Natasha found a trembling hand and squeezed it between both of hers.

His eyes flew wide open, and she could have sworn to see tears forming in them, reflecting the moonlight. Suddenly, he lost control of his body, and lashed out at her. His fist materialized out of the darkness and landed squarely on her mouth. It stung. Natasha ducked beneath a waving arm and quickly moved over him, crouching with one knee settled on his chest, her hands pinning his wrists to the mattress at either side of his head.

"Clint! Wake up!" She shook him hard, and he gradually relaxed. His eyes opened at last, still wild with fear.

"Clint," Natasha repeated, relief engulfing her as she saw him focus in on her face.

"Tash?" He sounded confused, and she released his wrists, moving off of him to sit back.

"You were having a nightmare," Natasha informed him. Clint sighed raggedly, and brought his hands up to rub his eyes. A warmth tickled Natasha's lower lip and it tasted metallic when she touched it with the tip of her tongue.

Blood.

He'd split her lip open.

Then her eyes met with Clint's, and she hid her tongue hastily. He hadn't done it on purpose and she didn't want to upset him. Nightmares were bad enough without knowing you had punched someone in your sleep.

"You okay?" Natasha shifted and flicked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"I am now," Clint responded, pushing up into a sitting position. His t-shirt was wrinkled and saturated with sweat, and his hair stood out in several different directions. "Nightmares suck, ya know?"

"Yeah, I know," Natasha agreed with feeling. "Do you want to talk about it?" She sucked her lower lip, making sure that the blood didn't drip onto her chin.

Clint shrugged. "Nah. It was just a nightmare, you know? Once you've had one, you've had 'em all. They're all crap. They're all the same." But he didn't seem to fully believe his own words.

Natasha studied him thoughtfully, her eyes tracing the line of his jaw, the set of his mouth, the shape of his nose, the way his eyes always seemed to be searching for something in hers.

Like they were now.

Natasha froze, her breath catching in her throat.

Clint's gaze shifted downward, and he sat up straighter. An invisible force pulled her closer, closer to him, closing the gap between them…

A low ringing startled Natasha, and she turned away abruptly. She wasn't sure what they'd been interrupted from, but she couldn't say she was glad that they had been.

Clearing his throat, Clint stretched across her and snagged his phone from the nightstand next to his bed.

"Hello?" he mumbled, his voice lower than normal, heavy with sleep.

Unsure and uncomfortable, Natasha stood to leave Clint's room and return to her own. But a warm hand closed around her wrist, anchoring her to the floor and sending an unexpected chill down her spine. When she turned back to the bed, Clint let go of her and held up a finger, telling her to wait.

"Yes, sir," he said into the phone. "We'll be there in ten." He hung up and slid out of bed, turning on a lamp. "Cap needs backup, he's in Siberia," he explained shortly, as Natasha blinked from the unexpected brightness. "Fury wants us to take the quinjet from HQ." He pulled some clothes from the closet and threw a shirt on over his head.

"Meet you in the truck?" Natasha suggested, and Clint agreed, with a familiar smile that cleared some of the confusion swirling in her mind. Nodding quickly, she left the room.

I hope you like this so far! I started this story in December and I'm almost done with it now, but it may be a little while before I get the next chapter up, because I re-read it recently and decided I didn't like it. So I'm re-writing it oops. And then I still have to send it to my editor (who is incredible btw, and makes me sound smarter than I actually am. Props to her). But I decided to go ahead and post the first chapter in hopes that it would motivate me to keep writing :) Have a great day! xoxo