Chapter 3: Could've Picked a More Romantic Spot

Once Pietro and Clint were both showered and dressed, they went downstairs to the lobby for breakfast. They technically could have made their own breakfast in their room, but part of their orders was to eat in the common area whenever possible so they could keep an eye on their target. Pietro joined Clint at the coffee machine and leaned over to whisper in his ear.

"Found him. He's at a table by himself. Think we should join him?"

"Absolutely," said Clint.

They took their coffee mugs and their plates and went to the table.

"Mind if we join you?" Clint asked.

"Go ahead," said the man.

They sat down and after about a minute of silence, Clint turned to the man again.

"Sooo, your boyfriend still in bed or something?" he asked casually.

"What?"

"Oh, are you not here for Pride?" said Clint.

"No, I'm here for a business convention," the man replied.

"Oh, sorry, the suit shoulda tipped me off. I'm Clint, by the way."

"Charles," said the man. "This your boyfriend?"

Pietro quickly swallowed his mouthful of toast.

"Yes, I am," he said. "I'm Pietro."

"Well, I'd better be off," Charles said. "Nice meeting you."

"You too," Clint called after him.

"He's rather polite for a terrorist," said Pietro.

"He's acting, just like we are," Clint muttered. "And rule number one about going undercover, if you're gonna talk about terrorists, keep your voice down."

The Pride event was in a park across the street from their hotel, so after breakfast, Pietro and Clint walked over, holding hands the whole time. Pietro could handle this holding hands thing, it was easy and casual and gave him minimum butterflies in the stomach (that wasn't to say there weren't any at all). It was literally any other kind of couple-y PDA that made him nervous, not because it was PDA specifically but because it was with Clint and, well, it was really hard pretending that he was pretending to be in love with him even without all the touching.

The event itself was unlike anything Pietro had ever experienced. Everything was brightly colored and hundreds of couples milled about, completely at ease and comfortable with themselves and their partners. The whole situation felt foreign to him.

Clint led him through the crowd, wandering among the booths handing out brochures and little flags or selling handmade products. They stopped at one of the booths and Clint struck up a conversation with the woman working it. Pietro was barely paying attention, gazing around at all the happy people. This event was called Pride for a reason, it was about being proud of who you were, and all these people walking around, waving their flags and holding hands, they were proud. And somehow it made Pietro feel very small and out of place, because he didn't feel proud, he just felt scared.

"Pietro?"

He jumped slightly, jolted from his thoughts, and turned to Clint, who was watching him with a concerned frown.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine," said Pietro.

Clint sighed heavily. Clearly, Pietro was a worse liar than he thought. Clint led Pietro away and into the bathroom at the edge of the park. He checked that all the stalls were empty, then turned to face him.

"Okay, seriously kid, if you're feeling uncomfortable, we can call this off," he said.

"I'm not, I just..." Pietro sighed. "It's just difficult, okay?"

"Look, I know it's your first undercover mission..."

"It's not that, it's..." said Pietro. "It's being here, having to pretend..."

"What, that you're gay?" said Clint.

Pietro groaned in frustration, covering his face with his hands. Well, he was going to have to say it eventually, might as well do it now.

"I'm not straight," he said.

"Oh. Okay," said Clint.

He sounded almost pleasantly surprised, though Pietro couldn't fathom why.

"But I'm not gay either," Pietro continued. "I like men, but I still like women too. Honestly, gender doesn't make that much difference to me. I don't even know what that means, I... being here, with all these people who know who they are, who've known for ages... it's hard for me. I was an orphan on the streets, I didn't have access to all the stuff they do. I've spent half my life confused, thinking there was something wrong with me..."

Clint stepped forward and took Pietro's face in his hands, looking him straight in the eye.

"Okay, first of all, there's nothing wrong with you," he said. "Second, we're at a Pride event. They've got pamphlets and shit, we can pick up some of those, maybe they can help you figure stuff out. And third, you've got me. I want to help you, I want you to be comfortable. And not just for the mission. Because I care about you."

Pietro smiled a little.

"Thanks," he said.

Just then, the bathroom door opened and a few people walked in. Clint's eyes flicked briefly to them, then back at Pietro. Then suddenly, they were kissing. Pietro only froze for a second before melting into it, letting his hands drift up to Clint's waist. And then, as suddenly as it had begun, it was over. Clint had pulled away and was taking Pietro's hand, leading him back outside. Pietro sort of floated along beside him in a daze, absentmindedly reaching up with his free hand to touch his own lips.

"Was that your first kiss?" Clint asked, watching him.

Pietro blinked and snapped out of his trance, quickly dropping his hand to his side.

"Maybe..."

"It totally was," said Clint. "Dude, I'm sorry, I should've warned you or something..."

"No no, it's fine, it's... it was, well... nice," said Pietro a little bashfully.

Clint smiled.

"Well, I'm, uh... glad you liked it," he said.

Pietro smiled back at him and tightened his grip on Clint's hand, feeling just a little more confident as they walked back into the rows of booths.