Natasha slept deeply, too deep to even dream, though the dreams would likely come in the morning as sleep slowly faded. Or would have had she not been awoken by Clint’s struggle so close to her. She felt him move, heard his breath catch, heard the noises that were soft yet clearly from distress. She knew him too well now to not recognize the signs of a nightmare, and though her mind was still hazy with sleep she rolled toward him, moulding her body along one side.

“I’m right here, baby,” she whispered, kissing his shoulder and wrapping her arm around him. She could feel her stomach waking up and preparing to protest but for right now it was okay. It wouldn’t last, though; she could tell already.