Usually Tasha had a lot of problems sleeping. Letting her guard down and closing her eyes seemed to allow memories and fragments of her past haunt her dreams. More often then not she'd wake up in the middle of the night, knowing she was safe, knowing she was protected but she'd be screaming and sweating and focusing tired eyes down the barrel of her gun at anything that moved. Being beside Clint was worlds apart. She slept without incident and even when she had slipped into limbo and the ghosts of personas past started talking her voice would cut through and tell them all the shut up, because she was safe and protected and nothing would harm her.

Then again he was like her, such a light sleeper and since she cuddled far too close he always managed to pull her out of sleep, like now. It took her a while to focus, breathing in the scent of his skin. Dust, metal, gunpowder and the tiny hint of sweat from the exertion of the mission. A familiar smell, a smell that reminded her what it felt like to have a home, a place in the world at last. She lazily opened eyes, finding herself staring at the hollow of his throat where she'd somehow managed to wiggle her way into him. Typical Natasha.

"Hi" She grumbled. Voice low, hazy with sleep, closing her eyes as the world swam. "Stop moving. I'm warm and comfortable" Damn him and his Hawkish behavior she'd grown to like.