[ It's easy, it's so easy. It's the two of them turning to each other on nights in the Raft, only magnified by the mental link between them. It's not the same as the ease between those in a brood, where Sam has to struggle to keep himself out of their heads and them out of his, an intimacy that's come too quick and too strong, it's...

Well, Sam doesn't know what it is. But he knows he signed up for this, for Clint, and he knows that for the moment, the press of their minds nesting so close together is a comfort more than anything else, as they slowly stabilize. Clint's not the only one who hadn't quite realized how much he trusted the other, but Sam can roll with it, too.

It's about the answer Sam was expecting, honestly, and at least it technically means that Clint's admitting that he's not doing great right now. When the question's turned back to him, he lets out a sigh, fingers pressing lightly against Clint's leg. ]

Got enough of my own nighttime crap coming back without having to deal with everyone else's.

[ Clint's aside, anyway, but he doesn't think he has to say that for Clint to know that Sam has no problem being there when Clint's sleeping troubles surface. Knows it's better not to say it, that Clint appreciates silent assistance more than attention being brought to it - and Sam lets it go, for now, because that's about where he's at with his own shit. Except he can't help but ask, ]

Anything I can do, besides this?