At first Natasha's lips press together into a thin line, because yes, she knows that she doesn't need to explain herself and yet she feels it necessary to do so anyway. This isn't like her; shaking with fright in the aftermath of something that isn't real in the first place. Yet there's no way for Jasper to know that, he doesn't know the reputation that she carries on her shoulders. Jasper isn't aware of just how foolish this all really is, or how none of the people in her life would believe him if he retold the story, not that she thinks he ever would. This simply isn't Natasha; or it is, and she doesn't know it. That's possible, she knows, considering the fact that she barely knows who she truly is in the first place.

She can feel the last of her fear seeping away but it's the kiss, chaste and careful, that pulls her head out of the darkness. It takes effort - almost everything she has - not to chase after him, emotionally desperate for more. Instead she manages a quiet and shaky laugh, fingers still curled into his shirt, and she looks up at him with wide eyes that that ask him to stay there with her because she knows she'll never be able to find the words to convey that it's what she needs.

"I don't think I'd be good company asleep," she points out weakly, and after a moment of hesitation Natasha leans up to press another kiss to his cool lips, still chaste but purposeful this time and lingering. It's good for her too, the amount of effort she has to put in for self control. When she parts from him, she holds his shirt to try and keep him close. "...I don't think I'm going to be getting much sleep tonight anyway."