Disclaimer: Don't own anything.
Natasha rolled over in her bed. She had barely slept and the moment she did sleep it was filled with memories.
She poked Clint with her foot. "Clint." She said quietly, poking him again.
"Hmm?" He asked, shifting slightly in his sleep. He hadn't made it to
the other bed when they had gotten back from the bar. He was laying on the floor, his jacket acting as his pillow."Clint." She repeated, stabbing him with her foot.
"What?" He asked, rolling over to look at her.
"I had a dream." She said, causing him to prop up on his elbow.
"'Bout what?" He asked.
She didn't say anything. She just looked at him, her eyes haunted.
"When I had knocked you out and how I could have sav-"
"Tasha, we don't talk about that." Clint said. "We don't think about it either."
Natasha nodded. "But, i could have stopped him from dy-"
"Stop being so whiny and let me go to sleep." Clint said. "There's no way we could have stopped it." He rolled under the bed, causing her to roll her eyes.
"God." She said quietly.
"Tasha?" He asked from under her bed.
"Hmm?" She asked quietly.
"Where's my medicene?" He asked.
She rolled onto her other side and mindlessly searched the bag on the bed with her. She felt the familiar container and pulled it out. She rolled over again and sat it on the floor, pushing it under the bed. She heard it click open and she heard him wince. "You okay?" She asked.
"As good as I can be." He said through gritted teeth.
She heard it click again and him pressing something before it appeared on the floor out from under the bed. She leant down and grabbed it, pushing it back into the bag "Clint?" She asked quietly.
"Hmm?" He asked.
"Night." She muttered, pulling the covers around her more.
"Night." He replied and soon the only noise in the house was Clint snoring. Loudly. Like he always did.