Romanov Soup
"You could have called me. I would have come home earlier."
Pietro looks blearily up at him, eyes shot through with red, and coughs pitifully. "Don't be stupid, old man. You were on other side of the world saving many lives. Is just a cold."
"Just a cold?" Clint scoffs. "The way Wanda tells it you went out in battle while you were ill and collapsed in the middle of a burning building. Rhodey had to fly you out of there. What were you thinking? You could have got yourself killed."
"I never liked Wanda." Pietro grumbles, burrowing deeper underneath his duvet.
"Liar."
"I never liked you either."
"OK, now you're just being ridiculous."
Clint sighs as he settles on to the bed next to Pietro, stripping off his archery gloves and tossing them on to the floor before he runs his hands through damp, white hair, smiling fondly as Pietro mewls in pleasure. This wasn't exactly how he'd pictured his homecoming but he has to admit that there's something incredibly endearing about Pietro like this.
"Well, I'm here now. There's no lives to save, no missions to go on - just a super ripe, super bungled up boyfriend to take care of so here's what we're gonna do. I'm gonna run you a bath, change the sheets, get you some of the famous Romanov soup and annoy you until you're not leaking snot everywhere. Sound good?"
Clint grins as the Pietro shaped lump of bedding nods minutely.
"Te iubesc." Clint is half way to the bathroom when he hears the soft words, Pietro's red nose peeking out from beneath the bedsheets.
"Now that I do believe," Clint smiles. "I love you too."