Who Says Romance Is Dead?
Chestnuts roasting on an open fire Nat King Cole sang softly in the background, Clint humming quietly along, his lips strumming against Pietro’s warm neck, as the two of them stretched out lazily on the couch.
It was a picture perfect scene; a roaring fire, soft music, two romantic lovers sharing a peaceful Christmas moment - they were practically a Hallmark card made flesh.
Except for the part where Clint was so bored that he would legitimately have welcomed the news that Loki was back and causing trouble. Anything that would give him an excuse to do something other than lie around, lazing with his boyfriend.
Ok, that sounds bad, doesn’t it?
It’s not that Clint doesn’t love Pietro, it’s not that he doesn’t appreciate Tony letting them use his cabin in Vermont to get away from it all. He loves Pietro, more than he’s loved anyone in a very long time and getting some time away from the rest of the Avengers where they’re not going to be interrupted or cock-blocked is welcome. It’s so much more than welcome. But, as Nat King Cole segues into Bing Crosby, Clint has finally reached his limit.
“Oh my God, enough with the Christmas music. I’m done, OK. Just, for the love of God, enough.”
Right, well, that was possibly a bit louder and a bit more melodramatic than he had intended. And, oh crap, now Pietro was leaning up on his elbow, neck craning around to look at where Clint was spooned up against his back.
“Pietro…I….” Words fail him as he realises that there is absolutely no way to tell your boyfriend just how unbelievably bored you’ve become with their romantic, festive get-away. Of course, Pietro guesses it anyway.
“Is this your way of saying that you’re not having a good time? That you’re bored here in this remote, romantic, perfect cabin?”
Once Pietro locks those blue eyes on him, those eyes that he once believed he’d never see again, all Clint can do is nod hopelessly, holding his breath and waiting for the inevitable fireworks (please don’t tell Wanda, please don’t tell Wanda).
“Oh, thank God!” Pietro cries out, leaping off the couch in a way that showed absolutely no regard for his back or knees - not that Clint is jealous (he totally is).
There’s a blur of blue and silver as Pietro disappears and reappears a second later with their coats. "The resort seventy miles away does snow kayaking. And there’s another one a bit further that rents you scuba equipment and let’s you dive under the ice. I can have us there in less than two minutes. Pick one.“
Clint blinks, needing a minute to catch up with Pietro - a feeling that he’s grown accustomed to over the past few months. "Wait..you’re OK with this? The whole not wanting to spend the rest of the week cooped up and curled in front of the fire?”
Pietro raises his eyebrows, looking at Clint like he’s just said something exasperatingly stupid. "Yes. I, the fastest man alive, was completely happy staying in one place for days at a time. Seriously, Clint? I love you, and I fully intend to show you just how much I love later tonight, on the rug in front of the fire. After we have done something to work up an actual appetite. Now come on, pick one.“
God, he’s got the greatest boyfriend on the planet. "Ice diving,” Clint grins widely as Pietro whoops in excitement and scoops him up, ready to run. "Oh, and we should download some actual music later on, no more of this crap.“
"Fine. But I kind of like it when you sing along to Nat King Cole.”
“OK,” Clint smiles, touched. “Nat King Cole can stay.”
Best. Vacation. Ever. Text