Clint manages to lift his arm high enough to flush the toilet and its obvious he’s lost in his own head because he doesn’t even notice Steve is up and bringing him things. As far as he thinks, he’s somewhere alone, and so when he hears the voice behind him, Clint is up on his feet in an instant, whirling around with a look crossed between confusion, panic, and a deadly promise to fight back.
In a split second he’s looking for a weapon and a way out, but upon realizing it was Steve in the doorway, the adrenaline burst passes and Clint promptly deflates into something weaker. It takes him another moment to remember where he is and how he got there, and then he’s shaking his head. “I’m fine.” He answered, voice raspy. “I’ll take the spare toothbrush though.”
He’s up against the sink now, turning on the faucet so that he could collect cool water in his hands and splash it on his face. There would be no chance of resting now, and so now was as good as any time to head out and patrol the city. No point in sticking around.
He feels dizzy though, unsteady, and it seems neither the water on his face washing his sweat away or the grip on the counter was helping much. Maybe leaving just now wouldn’t be the best idea. “Sorry for waking you.” Clint said softly, glancing over his shoulder before letting his head hang once more. He offers no explanation, and was rather grateful he wasn’t being questioned. Even if there were questions he would have no idea how to answer them, not when he had so many of his own.
What was happening? Why was he being plagued by these terrible nightmares and was feeling this constant weight on him, like there was something dark clinging to his shoulders. Maybe this was Loki’s doing, but even then what was there to back up the blame?
Steve doesn’t move a muscle, watching his friend from the corner of his eye instead. He isn’t fine but the Captain will hardly call him on it when he already looks ready to flee to someplace different. Better to keep the man where he is and get him to calm down than have him run into the night and end up on the short end of trouble.
“I was awake. Just because you’re in bed, doesn’t mean you’re sleeping.” Not hard to believe, though not entirely true. Frankly, he rather be awake than not these days. “Let me get you that toothbrush.”
Slowness allows his movements to be recognized, spaced out, and taken stock of. It’s something he learned around soldiers, when they woke up in the night, and considering what he knows about Clint’s file, he’s got no qualms calling the crying out ‘shell shock’ in his head. They all had been places they would rather not be, and who’s to say that any of them wouldn’t be in a similar spot some nights?
Quietly, he goes and returns, offering a toothbrush in a box and a resort style toothpaste to Barton. It’s from a survival bag in his closet, but how hard were these things to come by, really? Every Tom, Dick, and Harry seemed to have some sort of contraption or online store these days that sold soaps or pastes or something he could use in a pinch. This was just the tip of the iceberg, really, on what he had stashed in his apartment.
“Besides, it’s early enough that a cup of coffee wouldn’t hurt anyone.”
Still projecting his movements, the Captain just nods from the doorway and moves back, stepping light into the kitchen area. He allows the other to follow or not, giving the archer some space so that he can clean himself up. The bathroom is far too small, anyways, for the both of them and he didn’t particularly feel like blocking the door with his tall frame. It isn’t until he hears a small noise behind him that he acknowledges that he’s not home alone, flipping on the coffee maker with a beep, having loaded it in the meantime.
“It’s not the best drink in the world, but it’ll do,” he murmurs, rubbing a hand through already spiked hair. “Been awhile since I was moving around this early. You don’t seem like you’re entirely used to it either, huh?”
