Darcy/Clint 11
Darcy walked into the bedroom, hands on her hips, and stared down at the bed. The blanket was still all rumpled on her side, but the other side was a mound. A mound that was still snoring a little. Clint would deny that he snored until he was blue in the face, and she and Nat would just exchange a Look.
It was about 10:00. Usually Clint was an early riser, but they’d been out a little late last night. Tony had insisted, because Darcy had planned a ‘just the two of us’ kind of evening for Clint’s actual birthday.
But it was 10:00. Darcy was bored. She ran over to the bed and dove onto it, bouncing a little.
Clint bolted upright. “I’m awake!” he insisted, rubbing his hand over his face as Darcy cackled. His attention turned to her, squinting a little in his sleepy haze. “What time is it?” The words were slurred a little.
“10:00. Happy birthday, old man.” She grinned at him.
He flopped back on the bed and pulled his pillow over his face. “Can we pretend it’s NOT my birthday? I’m old.” The pillow was pulled down until just his eyes were peeking out over the top. “You’re not even thirty yet, are you?”
She just grinned and shook her head, and the blue eyes disappeared back under the pillow. She waited a couple of seconds, but he didn’t emerge again. “Fine. No birthday means no presents, though. It’s a shame, I had it custom-fitted and everything.” Darcy gave a theatrical shrug and bounced back off the bed. “You’ve been talking about it for months now, but since you don’t want it…” Turning, she headed back out of their bedroom.
She stopped just outside the door and pressed herself back against the wall. There was a second of silence, then, “Darcy?” The rustle of bedclothes. “Darcy, wait.” The unmistakable thud as he got all tangled up and hit the floor. “Shit! Darcy!”
Giggling, she beat a hasty retreat to the kitchen.