Before she met him, June Monroe knew that over one million bird species built nests for themselves and their young. After she met him, she added one non-avian species Clintannis Bartonus to that list.

From his codename, she expected a few oddities, but (abet foolishly) she kept these to the small quirks of the occasional bird metaphor and an unsated longing to fly. Really, who didn't want to fly? She'd gone through the mental checklist as soon as he'd given her the grand tour of his, now their, apartment.

Kitchen, small and sparse. Sitting room with little more than the expected couch and a few chairs although she did raise her eyebrow at the hammock hanging halfway up the wall close to the windows. The basement was more like him- targets tacked to the wall, along with a worn punching bag and two dummies in a corner near his rack of weapons with training mats lining one wall. Coincidentally or not, the tour ended in the bedroom with Clint standing just inside the doorway as June went right in.

"So, that's it. The décor, uh, isn't…"

"Not your idea? It does look like a woman's touch." June circled the room, noting a large open space while the furniture was pushed to the sides as much as possible. Although the floor was carpeted (beige), there wasn't even a rug in the middle. Making a mental note of all the changes she'd make, she laid back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling to smile when she saw the glow in the dark planets and stars arranged in what she assumed was a realistic pattern.

"Sleeping under the stars?" She glanced over to see him subtly shifting his weight from foot to foot and he scratched the back of his head. "This bed isn't right though. It's too clean. Either you have a girlfriend you just kicked out and are hiding the evidence or you climb out the window and sleep in a tree at night."

He scoffed outright. "Don't be ridiculous. I don't sleep in a tree… or have a girlfriend" he added quickly when her eyes began to light up in an aha moment.

She sat up and narrowed her eyes as she tried to place his uneasiness. "Is there a nightlight hidden around here someplace? Or you snore so loudly I'll need earplugs just to sleep? Or you don't believe in pajamas and you're afraid of changing your routine?" she tried, only to watch him shake his head in response after every one. "Or you're worried about impressing me."

"I'm confident in my skill set. On and off the range."

"Then why…?" but he had crossed the room and come to steal her breath away with a kiss before she could get the rest of the words out.

"I'm going to prove you so wrong, June Monroe," he promised in a whisper as one hand tangled in her hair and the other held her in place by the shoulder.

Later, she would consider how unusual it was that she only saw him come to the bed and he was always long gone by the time she woke up; either he got up even earlier than she thought or unnecessarily gave her the entire bed because his side was always long cold by the time she woke up.

The week passed eventfully—sparring together in the basement followed by an hour long massage where her sore muscles turned to putty beneath his hands, breakfast at a local bakery where the fresh apple turnovers took her back to her homeland, being impressed by his mild cooking skills, sharing stories of their pasts long into the night as his shoulder pillowed his head and their shared body heat was the only blanket either of them needed, and their first reconnaissance together. But the knowledge that something was off couldn't quite leave her.

One night, she was jarred out of her sleep when she felt his warmth pull away and the bed shift to accommodate the lessened weight. "Clint" she murmured, sleep groggy, reaching out for him only to find her hand meet empty air. She cracked open an eye and saw him gathering pillows and a blanket to sleep on the floor. No, that couldn't be right… "Clint" she tried again.

"Go back to sleep, Junebug," he whispered, coming over to pull up the covers over her. "I'm just going to be a few minutes."

"But…"

"Nothing's wrong. Just go back to sleep. I'll be right here." He kissed her forehead then moved back to what he was doing.

And that time, she believed him. The next morning, just like all those other times, his side was cold and she knew he had lied to her again.

This night, June was ready. She'd purposely drank two cups of coffee before bed and removed all the evidence. After they'd had their customary snuggling and chatting, June pretended to fall asleep beside him. She evened her breathing, became a dead weight and ignored the feel of his hand stroking her cheek. It felt like hours, but finally he was satisfied that she was asleep and got up. She listened to the rustle of linen and the creak of floorboards as he moved back and forth… when she shifted ever so slightly to the side and opened her eyes, June nearly laughed aloud when she saw the pile of pillows and blankets arranged with care on the floor. The legendary Hawkeye was building himself a nest! Suddenly his earlier unease made sense… he was so accustomed to sleeping in his homemade nests that he'd panicked when he'd have to start sleeping in a bed.

Oh you adorable birdbrain, she thought. She smiled as she watched him give his nest a one over before climbing into the middle and curling up on his side with a contented sigh. Now it was her turn to wait and count the minutes before he fell asleep. When she thought it was safe, she crept out of bed and slipped into the nest behind him with one arm draped loosely around his waist and her head against his side.

Epilogue

Clint awoke with a yawn, only to wind up half choking on it when he realized June was in the nest with him. She lay half on his chest, one arm draped possessively over his waist like a jealous cat. And by the look of the contented smile on her face, she wouldn't be going back to the bed anytime soon.