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His day starts like this: he is peacefully drinking his tea when Wanda calls. He picks up immediately, because Pietro is sure it isn’t good news. She just moved out of his house to live at the Avengers Mansion with her new team, something she was sure she was doing, but wasn’t exactly happy — after so long in the Avengers and after everything Wanda did, she thought Steve was going to give her the leadership. So when she calls, less than a few days settling in, he knows it can’t be good.
“Pietro.” She whispers, alarmed.
“Sister?” He asks, frowning. She never whispers. Wanda has nothing to hide. “Why are you whispering? Is something wrong?”
“I just don’t want anyone to hear. I’m at a coffee shop and it was difficult to just excuse myself when Rogue and Wolverine don’t trust me. And yes, there is something wrong.”
“Do you need immediate back up?” He asks, but in truth he wants to say: Do I have to kill anyone for you? Because Pietro would. After everything else he did, he still would kill for her, for Lorna, for Thomas and William. Hell, a part of him would even kill for his father, though he blames this in this need of his to get Magneto’s attention and acceptance. Pietro is already in his costume when Wanda answers him: “No. But Clint needs you.”
He pauses his movements for a moment, not sure what to say or what to feel. Something inside Pietro seems to drop and the blood may or may not have left his face, but he does not know what it means: if he is worried, shocked or just unsure if he is the right person to be called. The simple fact he is sleeping with the man when there is far more feelings than just this seems like it. Pietro sometimes wished his family wasn’t so emotionally attached to people, because they care and suffer too much. It’s a curse.
“Tell me why.” He says finally and, like anyone else who gets called when Clint Barton is in trouble, Pietro sits down to receive the news.
.
Sometimes, he feels like he is walking into a dream. It is a stupid notion since Pietro does not remember much of what he dreams, but it does not bother him since his life isn’t exactly normal. He fights monsters, aliens and unfit parents on a daily basis and teaches on a school for super-powered, supposed to be, teenage super-villains, so the fact he has trouble to remember his dreams, or dream them, is not that worrisome. Dreams make a poor escape from his life anyway, though sometimes Pietro wished he lived a little closer to reality.
Like now, when he arrives at Clint’s house after hearing the most unusual thing from his sister and finds him mopping on his couch, wearing pajamas of a purple cat. And by ‘pajamas’, Pietro obviously means a ridiculous thing that covers everything but Clint’s face — who looks rather shocked to see Pietro right now, like this.
Pietro hopes his face assures Clint he is not the only one.
“Jeez, Pietro!” Clint shrieks, actually shrieks, and tries to cover himself somehow. Lucky gets up at the sound, snarls and then notice the visitor is quite a regular one. The emotion in his eyes change from aggressive to calm and then he barks to say he recognizes Pietro, or perhaps just say hello. Lucky then shakes his head, as if he is disappointed Clint is making these sounds and waking him up when there is no danger. Pietro watches the dog go back to his sleep and smiles a little, remembering the way Lockjaw did the same thing, and that’s when what seems to be a paperclip hits his forehead. When he glares to Clint, because that was uncalled for, Clint glares back at him, face flushed with could be anger, but everyone knows it is embarrassment. “I could’ve been naked!”
“I have seen you naked.” Pietro snaps. “This— This is something far more atrocious than your genitals.”
“Kate gave it to me.” He explains, suddenly very interested on the fabric that completely covers him. “She told me it would make me good. Guess what, she was right.”
“For you to wear something like this, it must boost your self-esteem since it cannot get any lower.” Pietro stops and frowns. First questions first: “What is this, after all?”
Clint glares at him as if this way Pietro would feel guilt for telling him such bad things about his new sense of style, but decides to answer anyway. “It’s a kigurumi. It’s Japanese.”
“I have not noticed. Must be the name.”
“Oh, you can go to—” However, before Clint can tell him where he wants Pietro to be, he stops and frowns back at him. “What are you doing here?”
“I have heard rumors.”
Clint blinks like an owl for a few seconds before moaning and hiding his face behind two purple-covered hands. Pietro tries not to roll his eyes. It’s ridiculous. “Argh! Look, she is just a— a girl. And she kissed me but I didn’t do anything but—”
“—Get fired from the Avengers?” Pietro completes poorly constructed sentence, trying to get them both in the right path. It does not seem to be working.
“Wha—? Oh, right. That.” Clint says and then looks a little ashamed. “It was an accident.”
Pietro is amused. Amused enough he lifts his eyebrows as much as he can and analyses Clint’s expression for a moment, smirking. “Walking into a strip-club and crashing it down for no apparent reason is an accident?” They both know there was no mind-controlling nor he was intoxicated. There is an element in the story, however, that does not add up completely.
Clint pauses, looks up, looks down and then shrugs. “So, there was this girl and—”
“Oh. Now it makes sense.” Only a girl to make Clint do something like this. It’s half a joke, of course it is, but Clint seems to take it rather seriously, for he is already up, in that ridiculous outfit, and starts blabbing things that make no sense and that Pietro didn’t ask. “She was in trouble and I’ve met her before because I, uhh, bought her car and kinda had sex with her? But this isn’t important and it was a long time ago. A few months, I mean? A little less? Uhh— What is really important is that she was in danger and I am a— hero? So I had to help her and—”
“You got fired from the Avengers?” Pietro asks, without malice this time. “For that is what everyone is saying.”
Clint shrinks a little inside the cloth and Pietro scolds at the thing because it is not proper for a serious conversation. However, thinking a little more, Pietro has to admit he does not know if what they are talking about right now is serious. He actually has no idea what they are talking right now. “You can’t really trust on what people are saying, Pietro.” Clint points out.
“Fine. That is what Captain America told my sister on the last meeting of their team. This morning.” He clarifies and does not say that, besides Captain America, Wanda, Kate Bishop and Iron Man, Pietro is also the only one who knows about this.
Pietro cannot say he enjoys the implication.
“Okay.” Clint finally says and puts his hands inside the pockets that exist on the pajamas. Because of course there are pockets. He looks around for a moment and then asks: “You done here? I, uh, am watching Dog Cops and all.”
Pietro glances at the TV and sees an absurdity that should not exist at all and then looks back at Clint, who has the remote in one of his hands and is ready to hit ‘play’. He should have called instead of running all the way here. “I came here so we could talk about what happened to you.”
Clint does not take the eyes of the television, but holds the remote control tighter than before. He grunts something about how they have already done that and Pietro concedes that this conversation may take a little longer. Like everything related to Clint Barton, apparently, who only knows how to be a fast shooter and nothing else.
Pietro sits next Clint and, using his super speed, pries the remote control away from his hands. Clint immediately turns his head to face him and glares when Pietro smirks. “Did the woman take your fight too?” He asks. “Because I remember you being more aggressive than passive, since the beginning of your career as an Avenger. Just like I remember being an Avenger wasn’t everything that mattered to you.” It’s a lie, they both know, but Pietro remembers the times Clint ‘left’ the Avengers and he was never like this — so accepting.
The other, however, does not rise to the bait. He only glares more and stays silent. Something inside of Pietro finds this very disappointing and seems to break at the lack of flames on the archer’s eyes. He suppresses his own curiosity in finding out why this part feels so much for the lack of strength on Clint and focuses on the man himself: something is off with him. Pietro wishes he could analyze his body language to find a clue of what is happening, but the kigurumi gets in the way: it loosely covers Clint’s body and it also makes him look ridiculous, so Pietro can’t do anything but look in Clint’s bruised and marked face.
The disappointed part of him comes to life suddenly. Before he can do anything to stop it, Pietro raises on of his hands and touches Clint’s cheek, his fingers rubbing lightly at one of the bandages. Clint stiffs at the touch and, when he notices what he is doing, so does he. Caring touches are not something Pietro does often and the man doesn’t seem to be welcoming it either. He makes the movement to lower his hand, but Clint stops him by holding his wrist. Pietro watches him intently, notices the bruises and the tired look and, before he is even sure, he says: “You’re hiding something from me.” It’s barely a whisper, almost like a sigh, but Clint’s shoulder slouches and he tries to merge with the couch, so Pietro guesses he is right.
“She left something behind.” Clint confesses to him, after a while. His voice sounds too high on the silence of the apartment and, as if knowing his owner is telling the truth to Pietro when he hid from everyone else, Lucky raises its head and stays put. “Something it can’t be opened because I screwed up.”
Pietro nods absently as he digests the information and then he says: “Do you have any idea what it is?”
“No, but she was pretty mad when she discovered she can’t open it. Wanna see it?”
.
It is a strong-box, red, small and heavy. They are on Clint’s kitchen balcony and Pietro lifts up the object to see all its possible angles. Maybe there is some clue written in a foreign language or a code to open it, but no such luck. Times have changed and information is not given away this easily anymore — a pity; he misses the old times. He can see the purple mass that is Clint right next to him, and notices his eyes are locked on his face. He touches the vault again and pats it for a moment; the sound gives him chills, reminding him of his father.
Apparently, it can only be opened with the right combination or the content will be destroyed, but if those weird tugs and this mysterious woman want it so badly, maybe it would be better if they got it wrong and be gone with the strong-box. Or maybe they should sent it to Tony Stark or T’Challa, or even Hank Pym and McCoy so they can make sure what it is there is worth enough all this trouble — and then make it disappear. Pietro turns his head to say something to Clint, but his words refuse to be spoken as their eyes meet. Clint’s eyes are inquisitive and warm, making him look like a child — more now with that ridiculous purple clothe. As always, his control is stronger than the archer’s, for he soon breaks eye contact to stare at Pietro’s mouth. When he smirks, slowly, Clint gulps. “I have no idea what is inside there or what could be.” He finally says, still smiling at the other man.
“What— Oh, right, the safe. Uh, you haven’t heard about it on the streets?”
“I don’t go out on the streets.” He answers, rolling his eyes at the weak question. Clint keeps looking at his mouth, but, for a moment, his eyes travel to meet Pietro’s: “You should change that.” He says, and then changes it: “We should change that.”
“It didn’t work out very well for you, I would like to remember.” Clint barks out a laugh at his remark, throwing his head back a little. It’s a funny answer, Pietro knows, and there is no harm on it, but Clint’s laugh has bitter tones; when he recomposes himself, Pietro is already looking at the strong-box again, carefully trying to hide he is actually feeling a little sorry for Clint.
The girl said it could only be opened with a combination but since Clint already ruined that chance, they must rely on other things — or other people. Katherine Pryde, as an example, could take whatever it is out of the safe as quickly as Black Cat could be able to think on a way to stole it. Gambit could explode it faster than any trap there is on it, just like Thomas and his love for exploding stuff could. Longshot might be able to use his luck powers to find out the combination out of the comic books and Wanda or William could be capable of opening the safe with just a wish — Loki too, though Pietro wouldn’t like to have him around for that. The options are many and Pietro is not far behind: he himself could vibrate his body enough so he could pass his hand through the metal.
“I can try to open up.” He says to Clint, finally. The man raises his eyebrows, waiting for an explanation and so Pietro gives it to him. “I can vibrate my hand so I would be able to take whatever it is out of there.”
“It could be dangerous. No, wait, it is dangerous. I don’t like it. We don’t know what’s inside.”
“There are many other people who would be able to do it, then. You said it yourself: you are rich now. Farewell, hire the X-Factor. Longshot may be able to find the right combination. Or Ms. Pryde could do what I am suggesting. Wanda or William would be more of a help too but then we would have to wait longer. They are both on missions right now.”
“I just— Sometimes you don’t have this feeling to leave things the way they are? Like, just let whatever it is inside the safe, you know, inside the safe?”
Pietro thinks for what could be considered a second. For him. “No.” Unless they are not talking about the safe anymore, of course. If the safe is a metaphor for their relationship, he may have to think a bit longer. “We are still talking about the strong-box, right?” He asks, feeling silly.
Clint makes a face. “Of course we are. What would we be talking ab— Oh. Oh, that.”
Oh no. “Ignore it.” Pietro replies, as fast as possible. “I just wanted to make sure we were—”
“Are we going to have this talk now?” Clint asks, straightening up on the couch and scratching his head with a purple-covered hand. God, this outfit of his. Pietro looks at it again and notices the shades of purple that remembers the Cheshire cat; the way it’s almost impossible to notice the pockets; the supposed-to-be tail; and the cat’s toes pads that cover Clint’s fingers. And then it hits him. They are going to talk about them. Them. They are going to talk about what is going on with them since last October and they will be doing it while Clint is dressed as a ridiculous cat from a Disney movie that was pathetically boring and nothing like the book he used to read to Luna.
Oh god, they are going to talk about their relationship and now Pietro is assimilating the man he is fooling around with a character his daughter used to love. He does not deserve this. Yes, he has done bad things, but he does not deserve this. And as he thinks that, Pietro opens his mouth and snarls at Clint: “I am not going to talk about us with you dressed in this dreadful thing.”
“It’s a kigurumi. They are perfectly acceptable in Japan.”
“We are not in Japan.”
“Why what am I wearing does bother you so much? You bought me a hoodie with animal—”
“That’s different.” Pietro snaps, but feels the warmth rising through his cheeks. “It’s a completely different situation.”
“It’s not.” Clint snaps. “You think it is because it was part of a joke, but you still thought about me while buying something cute!”
“It. Was. A. Mistake.” He says slowly, cringing his teeth. He will not talk about this again.
“I didn’t say I didn’t like it.” The archer says, raising his hands as if showing he is unarmed. “‘m just saying you bought me something like a kigurumi. And it’s cute, I like it.”
“It’s not cute.” Pietro snaps, suddenly too mad to stop talking. “It was a mistake. I was going to retrieve it but life got in the way, and then Wanda—”
“—made us both a favor.” Clint finishes for him, but it’s not what Pietro wants to say at all. He feels himself buffing, his face hot, and all he wants to do is to get up and leave and never ever need to deal with this idiot that dresses like a purple cat when he gets fired from the Avengers. However, Pietro keeps himself on his seat, hands clenching on his pants, trying his best to not tear the fabric down in shreds because of the madness that is his life. Clint, however, keeps looking at him, but now his eyes are tired, exhausted — physically and mentally —, as he takes the hood of the costume off and messes his own hair a little. “Look” He starts, hesitating a little before he can find the right words. And since Pietro knows him so well, he is sure Clint is thinking a lot “I just want to know what is happening in my life.” He pauses. “And maybe wanting to know what is happing with it too, a little, yeah. But you are part of it and, if we ignore Penny, you are someone I’m having a relationship with.”
Pietro opens his mouth, but closes right away. He looks at the television, the so called Dog Cops now shut down to save energy, and then retreats his eyes to Clint’s frame. “We are not in a relationship.”
“Yes, yes we are!” Clint snaps back, suddenly mad. It looks like Pietro has burned the last of his patience. Not that he had a lot, of course. He is not Iron Fist. Oh God, Iron Fist. Why does he do those things with himself? “It’s not conventional, but the last girl I got together with was Penny and it was months ago. And I know you’ve been fooling around with Warbird.” Pietro rolls his eyes. Yes, he slept with her a few times and then everyone thinks they are on a relationship. Because that is how it works for everyone. Before things escalate and they both regret their words, Pietro cuts him off: “What do you want to do? About the strong-box, I mean.”
Clint stops, mouth open because he has not finished his last sentence yet. “Oh my God, I’m not talking about the safe anymore!”
Pietro sighs. “Let us just finish one conversation before jumping on another.”
Clint looks at the safe, jaw set and moping. It is not the best change of subject, or even a good way to avoid the conversation for now, but they must solve the problem with the strong-box before move into dangerous waters. After a while, Clint looks at Pietro and speaks: “Since the combination is lost forever, it doesn’t matter who has the safe or not, right? So maybe it’s best to leave it here.”
“But they don’t know that.” Pietro remembers Clint and he groans, hiding his face on his hands. “$@#@, I always forget this part.” He opens his fingers a little so he can see the safe while still covering his face and Pietro makes a face at that. So childish. Then, an idea seems to struck him, because Clint suddenly takes his hands off his face and looks at the object on the coffee table before looking to Pietro.
It takes Pietro three seconds and a half, of Clint’s time, to understand what he is implying with that stare. His answer is obviously no. “They won’t know it’s with you.” Clint argues, trying to defend his plan, in vain. Pietro only arches an eyebrow to remember him of that movie night where one of the crooks hurt one of his legs with a crowbar. “Oh, yeah. Okay, they’ll probably figure it out it’s with you, but they don’t know where you live!”
“And if they find out, Wanda is in danger.”
“No, if they find out, they’ll %$#% themselves because mother-%$%#$@$# Scarlet Witch lives with you. They won’t do anything.” Pietro huffs, not pleased, and looks again at the red strong-box. It’s heavy but easy to be moved and no one will see a thing if Pietro ran with all his speed. And Wanda does seem to scare normal people more than ever after she showed she is capable to hurt the Phoenix Force, even if a little. It’s a good plan, Pietro must admit, but, then again, there is nothing on this idea that would favor him greatly.
Until he notices that, yes, there is one thing. He looks at Clint with his best smirk, one that he learned from his father, and says: “Alright, I will do it.”
Clint smiles. “Sweet!” He says and gets up, stretching. “Great. Are you going to take it with you today? Well, I’m not expecting everyone and Kate is on a mission with the Young Avengers, and you know that, so you can stay after we talk.” Clint sounds sure that Pietro will agree on dating the man, and he may not be wrong — it has crossed his mind —, however it does not mean this will be his decision.
“I’ll do it, but we will postpone the conversation about our relationship to another day.” Clint freezes for a moment, still on the spot, and looks at Pietro as if he is being betrayed. It leaves a sour taste on Pietro’s mouth, but they must do this. They need time and, perhaps, people’s counsels. It is a big step for Pietro, who is not used to compromise, and for Clint, who is scared of it.
“No.” Clint decides, sounding more aggressive than ever, and Pietro sighs.
“I am not saying for us to not talk, just not today. I will hide the strong-box for you, perhaps even the comic books, but I would like to talk about what we have another day.” Or another life — Pietro would be glad for this outcome too.
“And when will we talk? Because you are a very busy man.” Clint says, half mocking him. Pietro, however, will not fall for that tone and ruin everything right now: “Not today, but soon. Perhaps in a month?”
“Oh, are we negotiating a date?”
“We are making a trade, Hawkeye.” Pietro snaps, slightly annoyed by the sarcasm on the other’s voice. He will not argue about it, yes, for they will do foolish decisions just like they did in the past, but he will not stand and be quiet about it. “I am risking my sister’s life, and my own as well, to protect something you stole from one of the worsts clubs of New York. I want something back.”
“No compromise?”
Pietro makes a disapproving sound with his nose, more annoyed than ever, because, really, talking to Barton is the same thing as talking to a door that only can hear threats and curses. “A chance to talk like adults and not on a stupid outfit of a cat.”
“You gave me a hoodie with dog’s ears.”
“We were not talking about relationships at that moment and stop mentioning that.”
“Fine. Fine. Fine. We’ll do it your way, alright? But I want to talk about this tomorrow.”
“It’s too soon, Barton. A month.”
“Oh, are we back at last name’s? Fine. I can do last names, Maximoff.” Somewhere, Pietro is sure his father is laughing at him, because this — and his taste in men — is ridiculous. “I don’t want to see you so soon, actually. You are an annoying person and I have something better to do with my life. Maybe find a new girlfriend or go back with Jessica Drew.”
If he thinks those empty threats will make Pietro start a discussion, he is wrong. Partially. “Three weeks. There is time for you to ruin at least five relationships and sort out what you want with me. Hell, you can use nine of them to get married again.”
“@$%# you!” A pause. “Three days.”
“Three weeks and that’s final.”
“A week.”
“You are joking with me. Two weeks and a half.”
“A week and a half and we don’t count missions or enemies who want to destroy the universe!” Clint says, looking very decided. Before can change his mind, Pietro is already saying ‘deal’. When he notices his smirk, Clint slaps himself in the face. “…We are never going to talk about this, will we?”
“Not this month, no.”
Clint throws his hands up in the air and grunts: “Aw hell.” Something wicked passes by his eyes and Pietro’s pulse jumps at that. Clint then proceeds to catch Pietro by the wrist and push him close to his body. Before they even touch each other, Pietro has already found his way to Clint’s lips.
They fall on the nearest flat surface and ignore when Lucky growls at them, alarmed.
.
Clint is more focused, for a lack of better words, when he is mad. He touches the right spots, makes Pietro grunt and sigh, but says little to nothing. He prefers to bite too, instead of kiss. In their way to the bedroom after they notice Clint’s ground is not proper to have angry sex, Pietro is able to take the control away from the archer and, without thinking, sinks his teeth on his neck and only stops when Clint whimpers and asks him to fuck him. It makes him question why will they even bother to talk when the mark on Clint’s neck is enough to tell everyone who cares about their relationship. Pietro always knew he was a possessive bastard.
.
The first thing Pietro thinks after they drag themselves out of the bedroom is that they should have those kinds of fights more. Clint is muttering curses and massaging the bruise Pietro left behind. “You should have warned me you were going to do that.”
“You wouldn’t let me.” Pietro replies, looking at the nearest watch to see if he still has time to take a shower. But it’s getting late and he has no idea if those tugs are watching the place right now. It would be better to leave now before falling into a trap. “I must go.”
“I know.” Clint says and then sighs. Pietro waits for a second to see if he will say something, anything, because Clint never sighs for no reason. When nothing comes, he moves to take the strong-box. It’s heavy and it needs to be held with his two hands, but Pietro knows he will manage. When he starts running, the weight will be close to nothing. When he looks back at Clint, however, he is much closer than before. The mark on his neck is bigger than Pietro wanted to be, but it looks good on him.
And it is purple. And Clint loves purple.
“Can we talk next week?” Clint asks and snaps Pietro from his thoughts. He frowns.
“We had a deal. A week and a half of normal days.”
“I know but… It will take too long and I feel we need to have this conversation. Like, I don’t belong on Avengers anymore, don’t know if I’ll ever come back — probably will, but that’s not the point. The world is always being threatened and so what if, when we talk, it’s too late?”
Pietro can only raise an eyebrow. “You are implying we are going to fail saving the world.”
Clint gives him this exasperated look that makes Pietro scowl him back. “I’m implying we always take too long to deal about us and it’s always too late. I mean: we kissed all those years ago, but only started, uh, doing things? Yeah, doing things, right now. Also, we’ll always save the world, but that doesn’t mean one of us can’t die while doing it.”
“You decided to date Spider-Woman.” Pietro remarks, putting the safe back on the counter. “And I like to try to stay alive while saving the world. It does wonders to your healthy. You should try.”
Clint rolls his eyes. “You are so funny. And, yeah, well, I dated Jess, you focused on your career and went on dates with white-haired aliens.” Pietro scoffs at that, but is utterly ignored: “We would’ve been together for years if we had just tried, all these years ago. We could’ve been married by now.”
Pietro sneers, mostly because Clint never stops being so damn optimistic. “It is cute the fact you think we could have lasted this long.”
His response is a scowl from Clint, who seems to disapprove Pietro’s love for reality. “We could’ve. You don’t know if we couldn’t, but I feel we would’ve been married by now. Look, all I’m saying is that we always let us behind to think on more important stuff. Jess and Luke decided to focus on each other and still be there to help when the world needed and they’re so happy, while we’re here, stuck on arguing about our relationship status.” He pauses, huffing tiredly, and then he looks at Pietro and tells him something it took years for Clint to admit to himself — Pietro knows, for he had the same problem: “We could die next week. I died once. You— You—” Clint waves a hand at him, not at all sure if he should use the fact Magneto killed him once as an example. If he must be sincere, Pietro does not know either. It says a lot about a father who kills his son when he tried to give him all he ever wanted.
But Magneto is not the topic of this conversation. And they are not invincible.
Pietro looks at the mark he left behind on Clint’s neck and thinks if he has something to do a week from now. The fact he does not, even with the Academy busy with mid-terms, special training, games with other teams and searches to find the missing students, says a lot about perfect timing. “Farewell.” Pietro says. “A week from now.” He is not sure if it is a good idea; Pietro feels like he is everything but ready for a conversation with Clint that could — and will — decide their fate, but they have been waiting too long. “I must go, now.” He tells Clint, finally, and then picks the strong-box up. That is when he notices Clint is wearing blue shorts with a white shirt. Pietro smirks. “You are not wearing that stupid outfit anymore.”
“No, you made sure to ruin it while we were making out on the floor.” Clint says, sounding disapproving, but his eyes are shining wickedly.
“I didn’t know how to take it off.” Pietro tells him, feigning innocence.
Clint does not believe in him. “Yes, you knew! You just didn’t care.”
Pietro smirks, only to show that Clint is right, and then kisses him on the lips one more time, a little clumsy because of the object between them. A week from now, they will be together for good or over forever. It does bode well neither on his mind, nor on his stomach, so Pietro steps away from Clint’s warm body and moves towards the door. They spend a few seconds outside the hallway, waiting for nothing, until Clint stops Pietro from taking off to kiss him. It is short and sweet. “A week, Pietro. A week.” He mutters, their faces close and lips aligned to another kiss.
“I know how to count, thank you very much.” Pietro scolds, the safe growing heavy on his arms. Clint laughs and instinctively leads one of his hands to the bruise on his neck and presses two fingers there. Pietro’s mouth goes dry and he decides it is time to leave if he does not want to stay the night. Not that it would be a bad thing, but they would probably start the conversation a week too sooner. Pietro shows Clint his back and is ready to take off, when, again, he is interrupted by Clint calling him. When he turns, he tells Pietro: “Just so you know, my life would be better, and easier, if I just dated you.” Pietro stops for a moment and the strong-box almost slips from his tired arms, before he decides to take off right now and not answer. So he breaths slowly, holds the safe closer to his body until it is hurting his ribs, and moves forward. The wind against his skin is comfortable and it calms him, but not enough to settle his stomach, that churns, anxious for the conversation that is yet to come.
Oh well.
03/13/2013 — 03/29/2013