It didn't take Clint more than a second to realize what woke him. He moved quickly to sit up beside Natasha.

"Hey. Hey, Nat wake up." he spoke to her as calmly as possible, careful not to touch her. He'd made that mistake before in an attempt to wake her from a nightmare.

"Tasha." He tried again. Her eyes snapped open and instantly she sat up. Clint caught her eye contact.

"You're with me."

She swallowed and nodded. Slowly she lowered herself back down to her pillow. For a few moments she lay staring up at the dark ceiling. Clint didn't move from where he sat, keeping watch over her as she regrouped.

"Tasha." Clint finally said quietly.

"Yes?"

"Gonna be ok?"

"Yes."

. . .

Half empty mugs of cooled coffee sat on the bench against the wall of the gym. In the center of the room, with the sun only just falling across the floor, Clint took the brunt of a provoked rage. With each blow that connected with his body, with every evasive measure she took, Clint knew Natasha was making a promise to herself again. She would not be helpless again. The Hulk broke that promise for her and she hated it. Clint could feel that hate. Everything she left in the past, the life that she got away from, had been lifted above her in the form of a massive green backhand. That wouldn't happen again. She would not let it.

. . .

Around the same time Clint was allowing himself to take a beating for the sake of his wife, Bruce was just taking his first sip of coffee. He ran a hand through his disheveled grey streaked hair and typed in his code to a lab. With a yawn he shuffled into the space where he would probably spend the rest of the day.

Bruce was still hesitant to leave Stark Tower, at least on his own. During all his time in the wind he had been conditioned to hide. Run and hide. And he had. He'd done it so well for so long. He knew he was considered a hero right now, at least in this city. But to those who might still seek him as their test subject, he could be so easily found. Not only that, but what confidence he did have in his control over the other guy had been shaken. Bruce knew, if he allowed himself to think about it, that what happened with Natasha still dogged him. He could still remember the look on her face. It was the last thing he saw before the Other Guy shoved him out of the way.

No, Bruce did not yet have it in him to go wandering the streets of New York. He was afraid.

He could hide the fear very well. His excuse was the scientific wonderland laid out before him by Tony Stark. How could he find time to leave the tower with so much to occupy him within its walls? In all honesty, it wasn't really an excuse all. He didn't need to go anywhere, not with all this great stuff to do. At least not right now. Bruce felt as though he could bury himself in work and that was fortunate. Otherwise he would have no choice but to hide in his apartment and there was no covering up that behavior.

. . .

By the time evening fell The Avengers, plus Pepper, found themselves in the penthouse. Tony, meddlesome as he was and still so eager to make sure this team thing would be a thing, had invited (coerced) everybody to dinner once again. He would make team dinners a custom if it was the last thing he did.

Again, at Pepper's instance, it was buffet style so that nobody would feel trapped at a table. They were free to meander, catch a breath, settle or float where they chose.

Steve stood, dutiful as ever, talking with Tony. He had been growing more comfortable around Stark by way of Pepper, the wonderful mediator. It also helped that Steve was simply seeing more and more of Tony in his day to day existence. This was true for everyone.

Bruce also stood talking with Tony and Steve. Stark wanted to discuss the science of Steve's serum, but could find no way to bring it up delicately or naturally. It would be a sensitive subject for both Steve and Bruce. So he danced on the edges of the topic and discussed immunity, something both of them had in spades.

Clint didn't feel like talking and stood by the window, looking out over the city. Tony found it painfully noticeable, but did possess the discretion to keep his comments about moody teenagers to himself. He was really just waiting for Barton and Romanoff to do something incriminating, and that couldn't happen with Clint staring off into space.

Natasha was at the table having a polite conversation with Pepper. Pepper kept to catching a glances of Tony's eye contact from across the room. He wanted answers. Pepper ignored him.

A little later Natasha was standing in the kitchen preparing a cup of tea at the counter while Bruce came up beside her to refill his plate. He instantly noticed her sudden rigidness. Although her voice, calm and casual as ever, drew attention away from the the subtle shift in body language.

"Doctor." She continued to call him that. He decided to let it go. If she still wanted to maintain a formal distance, then he wouldn't impose first names on her.

"Hi." he said. Bruce got his food as quickly as possible, sighed inwardly, and stepped away from her. He noticed Clint still standing by the window and headed over.

"Bruce." Clint greeted without looking away from the window, then took a sip from the beer he was holding.

"Hi." Bruce said. "Food's pretty good." he added in an attempt to make this feel normal.

Clint glanced at his plate and then over to where the food was set up. He nodded. "I'll get somethin'."

"... How's living here?"

Clint turned briefly to assess Bruce's face. He really was trying to make small talk.

"It's good. Lotta space."

"Yeah."

This was getting painful and both men were trying to pretend they had not briefly confided about their respective predicaments the other day. Bruce gave up the charade.

"Look, I uh, I just wanted to ask you how you're doing."

Clint made the mistake of not hesitating even for a second. "I'm good."

Bruce opened his mouth to speak, but decided against it.

"Great." was all he could say and awkwardly left Clint alone. He went back over to the table where the others were.

Clint passed him a second later, on his way to the food.

Natasha leaned against the counter, sipping her tea. She listened from a short distance to the general conversation that was now taking place with Steve, Tony & Pepper. Bruce had sat down on the emptier side of the table, still picking at the food on his plate. He half listened to their conversation while his eyes followed the pair of SHIELD agents. He watched Clint speaking low to Natasha where she stood. Bruce wasn't curious, or at least he didn't think he was, yet he couldn't seem to help watching them interact.

Clint began to assess the food situation on the counter and all the while they continued to speak quietly with each other. Bruce noticed Clint's finger tips brush against hers which hung at her side. Was that accidental, or just familiarity? It did seem like he wanted to take her hand. Bruce didn't know. Natasha turned her head at one point to say something even more quietly to Clint. A tiny smile broke out on Clint's face. That's when Bruce looked away. He felt sneaky and weird. He suddenly felt like he was doing exactly what he told Tony not to do. When Bruce looked back at the others he immediately noticed Tony's eyes not so subtly trained on the pair by the counter. Bruce almost laughed, but stifled it.

...

Atop Stark Tower that night, midnight arrived with a chill. Clint sat close beside Natasha, his coat collar pulled up around his cheeks. Natasha took the temperature a bit better. She always had. The two of them say with their legs dangled freely over New York City. This roof was the best ledge they had ever had to themselves. At least according to Clint it was. Natasha wasn't one to rate ledges.

"I like Pepper." she said succinctly.

"Me too." Clint agreed. "Think Stark knows how good he's got it?"

"He knows." Natasha said. Stark was many things. Shallow, despite his fine attempts at trying to be, wasn't one of them.

Clint shifted in his seat which caused him to inhale sharply. Natasha had bruised his ribs in the gym that morning. He was fine, but bruised ribs were bruised ribs. She would have apologized but, for them this wasn't an offense. Nor would either them think to even call it an injury. Nat had needed to fight back, and if she had to bruise his ribs to feel like nobody would ever control her again, he was happy to let her.

Clint didn't say anything about the pain, but he did say something she didn't expect.

"So, I know why you beat me up,-"

"Why you let me beat you up." Natasha clarified.

"Yes. Why I let you." He couldn't hide the stupid little smile as he said it. "But," he said with a straight face again. "Can we talk about it?"

Natasha sighed. "Really? We're going to do this?"

"Hey, you know I'm happy to let you work out what you've gotta work out. But you know as well as I do that even you can benefit from a little verbal expression. ...Or at least I can."

"That barely hurts you." She contested.

Clint just laughed. He found it so funny when he could push her to argue like a child. He'd been doing it for years.

"I know," he said with another laugh, a laugh that probably hurt. "I'm just saying I'm sitting right here. ...I'm always right here."

She nodded. They both knew Clint didn't really need details, that he was asking for her sake. Though, it was hard for him to see her affected like she was. What was worse was how much he knew she hated being in that state. So, she began to speak for his sake as much as hers.

"Not since I was a child have I been helpless. I never promised myself consciously, but I knew I would never let it happen again. Many of the things that happened when I was small I can barely even remember, but I never had the choice. I was theirs to control and to build, but they did build me. So when I was something they couldn't stop, I took my life back. ...sort of."

She looked over at him "Clint, I still had an out when you met me."

His mouth twitched with a smile. He knew that and wouldn't have wanted it otherwise. He knew she could have turned that first meeting around, or at the very least made it even, but, true to form, he began talking and she had to hear him out.

The good humor faded from her voice as quick as it had come. "I have worked hard to put aside any moment where little Natasha waited for the worst with no out."

Clint said nothing, though his eyes did not leave her face. He knew all the things that meant and it made his insides twist with rage. Looking at her in that moment, though, all he could see was the strongest person he'd ever known.

"And the dream?" he coaxed quietly.

"I was just a girl again. They matched me in a spar with an easily beatable opponent. It was a little boy and I was going to destroy him. We began. It was easy. He begged for mercy and then... he exploded into a monster. There was nothing I could do. Then you woke me."

Clint nodded.

The Hulk had reintroduced her to fear which she hadn't known since the Red Room. Now here she was, admitting it in the best way she knew.

He looked up into the sky at what passed for stars. His fingers found hers on the ledge beside him.

"Nat," he said.

"Yeah?" She said, focusing on the feel of Clint's thumb brushing back and forth across her ring finger.

"He's afraid too."

She nodded.

Clint looked down at the street below. "...So am I."

Natasha did not have a response for that. Instead, she got to her feet. Clint looked up at her.

"We should sleep." was all she said.

"Yeah." he said, getting up as well.

As they walked wordlessly back into the building Natasha slipped her arm through his and around his back. That was all the response she had for him that night. He returned the gesture and held her closely as the went.