Steve moving means it's awake time, and daylight means he probably shouldn't roll over and go back to sleep, even if the temptation is there. Clint flops to his stomach, sprawled over the vacated spot with an impetuous sound, and regrets the little things, like being alive and conscious. Ugh. Who invented that?

When he pushes himself up, he can feel the protest in his shoulders, the stiffness in his neck threatening to become a raging tension headache, the way it feels like each and every rib throbs with his pulse.

Well, the workout this morning is going to be a fun one, but he'll push through. Coffee first. Always coffee first. He gives Steve's sketchbook a glance when he shuffles into the kitchen, but it's closed and he's not about to snoop, not just yet.