Clint chuckled at her shot, the laughter rumbling low in his chest. “They’re not necessarily mutually exclusive,” he replied, watching her through half lidded eyes. Her movements were usually so controlled and calculated that he always enjoyed the moments when she let herself relax. Seeing that she had no intention of moving her hand even after she’d gotten comfortable, he placed his own over hers again, not holding it but just letting it rest there.

“Nothing,” he agreed, pausing a long moment before continuing in a voice barely above a whisper. “Except maybe the part about the tutu...”

He could probably use a few hours himself; two, maybe three tops. He had learned to sleep pretty much anywhere, in any position and could fall asleep almost instantly, but he was also a very light sleeper. Any movement, and sound was usually enough to wake him at least when he was on the job. It was a good skill to have for someone who did so much surveillance, but it meant that any sleep he got was usually brief and broken.

Somehow, though, he always slept sounder when Natasha was at his side... when he knew she had his back.