Clintasha One Shots

Stress ~ Part One

A/N: Hey guys! I've got an orthodontist appointment today, so I'm not going into school until lunch, so I've been writing FanFiction! Can I just say a huge thank you for 12K!! I had a lot of fun writing this one, enjoy!!

~Sam xx

*Clint's POV*

​The nightmares are the worst. When the demons grab you by the throat and pull you in. There's no escape. They use my worst fears against me. My memories, my mistakes. In every nightmare I'm made to kill, to kill my family, friends and colleagues. I shoot the arrow and stare whilst it rips through my victims, engulfing their souls. I smell the blood, like a shark in a shipwreck.
​
That dream was different. That dream changed me. In all my dreams I've
never been made to kill her, but in that one, I did.

*~*~*~*~*
​
Tasha rolls over and kisses my forehead softly. "Good morning Mr Barton." She giggles before resting her head on my chest. I don't respond. After a couple of minutes of silence (aside from the cars going past the tower) she gets up. "Bad dream?" She asks. I nod slowly, remembering her face as I aimed for her heart, how she screamed my name before I shot. No. Stop thinking about it. STOP! Tasha's stroking my hair now, holding me close. "You're never normally this shaken. Was this one different?" Whenever we have nightmares, we always discuss them; we find it helps to move past the horrors. Tasha's hands are so small and warm and mine a huge and freezing, and when she holds them, a tiny bolt of electricity rushes through me as my body gets used to the heat. "Similar, but worse." I respond shortly. She pulls away now; I can hear her brain thinking about what the nightmare could have been about. "Oh my God." She gasps, hugging me tight, her arms wrapped around my neck. "You'd never do that Clint, never. It was just a nightmare, nightmares don't mean anything." She's not letting go, and I don't think she ever will. Even though I know she's right, I can't help but move away from her. What if the nightmare comes true? What if I'm controlled again, or even worse, made to choose between murdering Tasha or someone else like a child? What would I do then? I'm capable of killing her, and knowing that kills me inside. "Clint? Clint! CLINT!" Natasha's shouting now, but I can't hear her anymore. Her mouth is moving but no sound is coming out. The only noise I can hear is a constant whirring sound, like a
propeller.

*~*~*~*~*

​"Clint? Clint! Wake up!" Tasha screeches. When I open my eyes I'm sitting in a S.H.I.E.L.D helicopter. I groan, it's so bright! "God Clint, I thought you were never going to wake up! We're about to land, Steve said we've only got a few more minutes left." Tasha's wearing her cat suit, and her hair is long and straight. I think I prefer it short and wavy. Steve's sitting next to her, wearing his suit. His shield is on the floor by his feet, slightly battered and covered in mud. Tasha and Steve are holding hands. "Why are you holding hands?" I question aggressively. Tasha's not wearing her wedding ring, and neither am I. "You know why Barton. Steve and I are engaged! Remember?" What? Tasha and I are married! Right? "Clint are you alright?" Steve says nervously. All of a sudden Tasha and Steve vanish, and the helicopter turns all pixelated and disappears. The world fades away.

TO BE CONTINUED