When Clint woke up in the morning the first thing he did was roll over and check that Natasha was still there. And she was. Her head was turned towards him and he couldn't figure out how she could still look so beautiful at 7 in the morning. Her red curls spilled out over the pillow in waves that trickled down to her shoulders. Her one hand was resting on her stomach and the other was inches from his own. She was at her most peaceful while she slept. Clint was so used to seeing her tense and focused during missions that he didn't think he could get used to her like this. To a Natasha that let her guard down. He could feel himself falling asleep again but he fought against it. It was a rare moment that he was able to study Natasha without her noticing. If he had tried to do so when she was awake she probably would have hit him and told him to focus on something that was actually important. She didn't see that she was important, at least she was to him. And that was all that really mattered anyway. He slowly reached out a hand and lightly stroked her cheek. She didn't even stir. Not that he was surprised, the nightmares had kept her up most of the night. If the missions and the violence of their profession didn't kill him then waking up to Natasha screaming would. He knew that she wasn't in danger and that it was all in her head, but in those first few seconds between sleeping and waking his heart hammered in his chest and he turned towards her fearing the worst. It was only once he saw that she was dreaming that he would scramble out of bed and try to wake her. He had been plagued by his own dark dreams so he knew how terrifying and exhausting they could be. But in his nightmares he wasn't the one being harmed, no his mind was much more cruel than that. He had to endure nightmare after nightmare of Natasha being killed, slowly and painfully right in front of him and all he could do was watch. No matter how much he fought or screamed she always ended up dead, staring up at him with green eyes that no longer sparkled. He was usually sick once he finally woke up. He'd managed to hide these dreams from Natasha, for they never bothered him when she was there. And he didn't want to bother her with his nightmares when she had trouble dealing with her own. Clint shifted and slid his hand into hers. He pulled the covers back up and nestled himself closer to her. She always smelled like vanilla, a smell he hadn't cared for previously. But now he went out of his way to buy things that were vanilla scented whenever Natasha was away. He made sure never to bring that up to anybody from Shield. Can't have them thinking the hawk had grown soft. But as he watched her sleep he knew that he hadn't softened or grown weak. If anything Natasha made him stronger, better. She stirred then, and for a split second Clint thought she might wake up. But she only turned so that her body was facing his and snuggled closer. She sighed and smiled in her sleep and Clint smiled back. He hoped that she was having a good dream for once. Though he would have been perfectly happy to stare at her all morning, sleep grabbed hold of him and refused to let go, so he closed his eyes and let his mind drift. He didn't see Natasha open her eyes a few minutes later, glance down at their entangled hands and smile. She kissed him lightly on the cheek and sunk back into her own unconsciousness.