I hope I wrote this okay, I myself have never done drugs so I was just basing it off what the internet said lmao.

Natasha sat up, gasping, her eyes wild. Another nightmare. She pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, desperate for something to ground her. The images flashed across her eyes again, and she squeezed them shut, dropping her head in between her knees. The bed shifted beside her, and she felt a warm hand envelope her bare back, rubbing soothingly. "Tasha?" Came a rough voice to her right. "What's wrong, sweetie?" She felt him brush back the hair on her neck, then place his lips on her. Soft, comforting kisses that made her want to lay back in bed with him and stay their forever. His tongue brushed the nape of her neck softy, and she shuddered.

It was all too much. The sensations. They were overriding her senses, corrupting her brain. She knew what she had to do. She lifted her head slightly. "Nothing, just a nightmare. It's alright, go back to bed." Clint sighed before whispering a quiet "okay" and lying back down. Natasha berated herself. Clint was never anything but amazing to her, and she repaid him back by lying to him. She knew seeing her hurt made Clint hurt, and all he wanted to do was wrap her in his arms and whisper that everything is going to be okay. She wanted that too. But she wouldn't be able to stand it. He was too good for her. She didn't deserve it. She didn't deserve him.

Once Clint had laid down completely, she took her chance and walked to the bathroom as fast as she could given that she was still quite sticky from the night's activities.

Once she got to the bathroom, she locked the door. Natasha went straight for the cabinet under the sink. She pulled out a bag of white powder and a piece of paper. She poured the powder onto the counter in a thin line, rolled up the piece of paper gently and placed it at one end of the line.

Natasha always felt better when doing drugs. They helped her forget why she was doing them in the first place. All the nightmares, all the memories disappeared and she could solely focus on nothing. That's why they are so dangerous, she supposes. She wouldn't say she's addicted per se, but she certainly enjoys the blurry nothingness that comes with drugs. She doesn't do it often, only when she really needs to escape. To forget.

During the first month after they met, Clint walked in on Natasha snorting cocaine. There wasn't much she remembered from that evening, since she was high as fuck, but she does recall Clint snatching away her bag of drugs before asking why she did them. Ever since then, Clint had urged her to stop, practically pleaded her, and about four years into their partnership (around the time they started fucking each other) Natasha promised to Clint that she would stop. Become sober. For him. And she did, for a year. And she had never been happier. Clint was over the moon, he was so proud of her. He told her so a lot, whenever they had the time in the night to lay in the warmth of each other's arms.

After a particularly revealing mission about her past, she descended back into the wormhole that is drugs. Somehow, she managed to never to tell Clint, never spill her dirty little secret. However, she did ask Clint if she could smoke. He was upset, undoubtedly, but he agreed that a cigarette a week was alright.

She does feel guilty. For many things, she'll admit, but mostly for not telling Clint. It would only hurt him, and she would risk losing him forever. Losing Clint has never been something she wants to think about too much, but is always something that she thinks about a lot. Every time he leaves her for a solo mission, she makes him promise he'll write her a note and call her at every opportunity he has. And he does. Every. Single. Time. He never forgets. It's soothing for her. The little arrow drawings he doodles on the bottom of every note reminds her that he will try as hard as he can and even harder to come back to her. The drawings are different every time. The latest one was two small curved arrows forming the shape of a heart with a neatly written "YOU" in the middle of it. It was extremely cheesy but it made her smile wide and her heart flutter in her chest. She loved this man so fucking much.

It was no secret between them that Natasha has attachment issues with him. She hates to be without him, and often sits up at night with bottles of vodka and an empty heart. It all feels worthless without him, she had come to rely on him for that feeling of security and happiness which she had been missing her while life. Natasha hated that she turned into a emotionless wreck when he wasn't around, and a part of her brain always screamed at her over every fallen tear. She relies on him to put her broken pieces together whenever they fall apart, allows him to seal all her cracks with kisses and caresses. She opens up to him about all her imperfections, the way she feels about herself while they share bottles of beer and watch the stars every week.

Natasha drew herself back into the present. She was sitting on the cold tiles of the floor, her head drooped. She didn't know how long she had been in there, but since she can't hear Clint banging in the door, it can't have been that long.

She dragged herself up slowly, gripping the edge of the sink. Her head was spinning familiarly. She stumbled over to the bed, where she could see Clint completely passed out. A sharp pain suddenly appeared in the front of her head, and she stopped, gripping it. It throbbed, and she groaned. This was the bad side of cocaine. Migraines. They hurt like hell, the dull throbbing overtaking everything and interrupting her thoughts.

She felt her heart rate pick up, and she took a moment to gather herself. When she was ready, she began moving, the sudden lithe in her step getting her over to the bed in a few seconds.

She lay back down, feeling too euphoric to sleep but wanting to reassure the sleeping Clint. He was on his stomach, spread out. Grabbing his arm, she pulled herself towards him, wrapping herself around his strong arm. She felt him grunt sleepily and shift closer to her.

She never slept the rest of that night, lost in her own head and the euphoria, but the steady feeling of Clint's arm helped her stay calm, the feeling of his skin against her face made her feel safe.

Safe?

Safe.

She was safe.

I noticed I seem to end each chapter with at least one of them sleeping . Anyway I hope you enjoyed!