Just imagine Ward and Clint waking up in their bed. Hot outside, sweaty bodies in, and their bodies uncovered into the nakedness produced by an active night. The sun has come out and Clint has been the first to wake up, and his only move has been to turn around to face Ward, which makes the still sleep Ward to face down and embrace the pillow. Clint’s fingers describing the lines on Ward’s head, pulling his hair back, touching softly the skin as the lines on muscles and bones are found. Just waiting. Waiting for him to wake up. But unable to keep his hands to himself. Andnot in a sexual way, no. An affectionate one.