Risk

Twenty

She just wanted to sleep, her anger had heightened her headache and her body screamed out in exhaustion as her rage drained any remaining energy she had. All she had to do was collapse into bed and would have been passed out as soon as her head hit the pillow.

But yet, she was stood by her bedroom door, staring at Clint fast asleep in her bed and hesitating. She wouldn't have given it a second thought before, she had no need too, but James' distrust was fresh in her mind.

He'd hate to think she left his and crawled right into bed with his biggest insecurity. That she'd curl up beside him and fall asleep, maybe end up leaning against him or fighting him for covers. Innocent, yet still intimate.

Then again, if he hadn't pushed her away she wouldn't be here. She kicked her shoes off stubbornly, pulled her coat off and changed into pyjamas without so much as a stir from
Clint even when she climbed in beside him and got comfortable.

She turned her back on his snoring form, which was sprawled out on his front facing the wall, and closed her eyes letting sleep take over and rest her mind for a few hours.

She awoke almost two hours later after her accidentally gave her a sharp kick while adjusting his position. She frowned as she stretched out, groaning at being woken earlier than she'd have liked. He had awoken too, looking confused as he blinked out of his sleepy state.

"You're back early," he murmured, closing his eyes again as he lay his head back on the pillow.

"Not through choice," she pulled the covers around her tighter, nuzzling into her own pillow as she tried to let the conversation die so she could sleep again.

"What does that mean?" Clint yawned.

"That men are asshole," she murmured bitterly, making Clint chuckle softly.

"Can't help it, it's a natural default. What did he do?"

"Doesn't even matter." She huffed, but Clint was not satisfied with that answer.

"C'mon Nat, tell me the gossip. Do I need to go have a word with him?" He changed the tone of his voice, jokingly making it menacing and protective.

"That definitely wouldn't help anything." She sighed, gaining his attention.

Clint slowly opened his eyes, frowning softly at her. She was still curled up with her eyes shut, but he could see the frown creasing her forehead and pulling on her lips just slightly. Her body language was tense and closed off even to him, and he leaned up on his elbow slightly to give her his full attention.

"Nat, tell me what's wrong."

"Forget it."

"No way, you're upset about something. Is it to do with me."

"No," she sighed. "It's nothing to do with you," finally she opened her eyes to look at him. "That's why I'm so mad about it."

"Oh, you're going to have to tell me now," Clint frowned, watching as she pushed herself up the bed to prop up against the pillows.

"James basically doesn't trust me." She huffed at the thought. "Especially not around you since I never mentioned that we had...well, whatever we had."