As soon as Coulson left him to himself, Clint went on automatic. Much as he didn't want to have Coulson out of his sight, he knew that he needed to sleep. It was an irrational thought that plagued him, as he stripped down to his underwear, that Coulson wouldn't be there when he woke. He'd found him, alive and well, and Coulson wasn't going anywhere.
He folded his clothes over once, draping them over a chair in the corner of the room, before slipping under the sheets. The pillow was cool against his skin, and his eyelids drooped heavily. The scent clinging to the fabric wasn't familiar, it was different, and he wondered it Coulson just couldn't get his usual bodywash out here. Or his usual cologne. It left him feeling a little off balance. It wasn't the biggest change, but it was different enough to make Clint take notice of it.
His sleep was dreamless and deep, both of those unusual. As an agent, he typically slept light, the chance that someone could ambush you at your most vulnerable was always hanging over your head. He couldn't dare to sleep to deeply. He thought he heard someone moving around the room, but it didn't make him stir. He just curled into the sheets some more, though he'd managed to tangle around them in his sleep, and kept on resting.
He woke barely a few hours later, certainly not after enough sleep for how long he'd been awake. He rubbed blearily at his eyes, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, and getting to his feet. He grabbed the first t-shirt his hands landed on from the drawer, tugging it over his head, as he padded out into the main room. Coulson was sat, watching- huh. He'd've put money on SuperNanny. "I prefer Ace of Cakes," he said, moving over to the couch, and sinking down onto it.
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He folded his clothes over once, draping them over a chair in the corner of the room, before slipping under the sheets. The pillow was cool against his skin, and his eyelids drooped heavily. The scent clinging to the fabric wasn't familiar, it was different, and he wondered it Coulson just couldn't get his usual bodywash out here. Or his usual cologne. It left him feeling a little off balance. It wasn't the biggest change, but it was different enough to make Clint take notice of it.
His sleep was dreamless and deep, both of those unusual. As an agent, he typically slept light, the chance that someone could ambush you at your most vulnerable was always hanging over your head. He couldn't dare to sleep to deeply. He thought he heard someone moving around the room, but it didn't make him stir. He just curled into the sheets some more, though he'd managed to tangle around them in his sleep, and kept on resting.
He woke barely a few hours later, certainly not after enough sleep for how long he'd been awake. He rubbed blearily at his eyes, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, and getting to his feet. He grabbed the first t-shirt his hands landed on from the drawer, tugging it over his head, as he padded out into the main room. Coulson was sat, watching- huh. He'd've put money on SuperNanny. "I prefer Ace of Cakes," he said, moving over to the couch, and sinking down onto it.