Chapter 7: Slow Down, Kiddo

Was it possible to fall even more madly in love with someone you were already madly in love with? Apparently so. And Pietro was completely and utterly screwed. Every touch, from the most casual brushing of shoulders to feeling Clint's body pressed against his in bed, sent bolts of lightning to his heart. Every look made his head spin. Every word Clint said, even the most sarcastic remarks, filled his head and stayed there as though they were the most important words in the world. Yeah, Pietro was definitely screwed. There was no saving him now. He was absolutely, irretrievably in love with Clint Barton and he didn't know what to do.

He woke up on the fourth morning of their mission, still naked from the night before and curled up in Clint's arms. His first thought was of how much he liked this feeling. His second was dear God, not again. Was he to be cursed with this panic every morning he found himself naked and ravaged next to Clint until the end of the mission? Considering how much he had enjoyed the last two nights and the fact that, for the most part, he didn't exactly regret it, he really hoped the panicked mornings-after would dwindle out.

Clint was still asleep, so Pietro gingerly extracted himself from his embrace and went to take a shower. He turned on the faucet and just stood under the hot water for a moment, closing his eyes and letting it sooth away the tension in his muscles. Damn, he was tense and hadn't even realized it. They'd only been on this mission three days and he was feeling it. And it wasn't even because they were spying on a dangerous terrorist who almost caught him bugging his hotel room. It was because of this damn charade he was having to put on, pretending he wasn't already in love with Clint so that Clint would think he was just pretending. Like he was supposed to be doing.

But it was hard, because Clint was just too damn good at his job, and there had been several times already when Pietro almost forgot that all of this was fake and Clint wasn't his actual boyfriend and they'd be back to being just teammates in a week and a half. The fact that they were having sex wasn't helping, and part of Pietro knew he should probably put an end to that before he got himself more hurt than he inevitably was going to be, but at the same time, he wasn't sure he could bring himself to stop.

He didn't realize just how long he had been standing idly under the water until Clint shuffled into the bathroom and poked his head around the shower curtain.

"Morning," he yawned. "Mind if I join?"

"Sure," said Pietro.

He mentally kicked himself the moment the word fell from his mouth. Showering with Clint was hardly going to make his situation easier. But it was too late. Clint had already stepped in, sliding up into Pietro's space to join him under the flow of water. They were standing incredibly close, and Pietro had to remind himself of how silly it was for him to feel awkward about it when he had literally had his dick up Clint's ass the night before. Still, more to keep himself from getting a hard-on from mere proximity than anything, he quickly turned away to grab the shampoo bottle.

As usual, they went down to the lobby for breakfast once they were dressed and joined Charles' table. He seemed even more irritated by their presence than he had the previous three mornings, which wasn't exactly surprising since neither of them made any attempt to not be obnoxious. If anything, they were purposely trying to bother him, though they had never actually discussed this as a tactic and honestly the only outcome it potentially had was to put them on a hitlist. While Clint tried to chat with Charles, Pietro let his spoon fall under the table and crawled down to fetch it, sneaking a tracker onto Charles' shoe in the process. When he resurfaced, Clint had stolen his bacon again. He rolled his eyes, snatched the half-eaten slice from Clint's hand, and ate the rest of it before Clint could protest. A moment later, Charles stood abruptly and left without a word.

"Good-bye!" Clint called after him.

"How rude," Pietro remarked.

"Well, he is a terrorist," said Clint. "Did you do it?"

"Yup. As long as he keeps wearing those shoes all week, we'll be able to watch everywhere he goes."

"I've been keeping an eye on his shoes the last couple mornings, I'm pretty sure those are the only ones he packed," said Clint.

"You are much better at spying than me," said Pietro.

"I've had a lot more practice."

The day went smoothly and all too fast, and before they knew it, they were back in their hotel room. Pietro sat at the computer, looking over the data from the tracker and the bug in Charles' room while Clint hovered over his shoulder.

"Sooo," Clint said, kissing his neck. "What d'you say we finish up here and go steam up some windows?"

Pietro wanted to so badly. But he knew he really shouldn't, for his own sake. He was setting himself up for heartbreak enough as it was.

"Not tonight," he said, hoping he didn't sound as defeated as he felt. "I'm not feeling all that great, I've... got a bad headache..."

"Oh. That's okay," said Clint. "I'm sorry you don't feel good. Here, lemme get you something."

He went and got a glass of water and some Advil and set them on the table in front of Pietro, then stood behind him again and started gently massaging his head. Pietro sighed and let his body relax.

"That better?" Clint asked.

"Yeah, thanks."

"Take that Advil and send Cap the mission report. Then we can watch a movie or something."

Pietro finished typing up the last few sentences of the report and hit send, then took the Advil Clint gave him. He doubted it would do much harm taking painkillers when he didn't actually need them, especially since his heightened metabolism would just burn it off in the next half hour. Clint took his hand and led him to the sofa. They sat down and started flipping through the channels. Eventually they found some action movie that Clint said was good and started watching it. Pietro laid his head in Clint's lap, letting Clint stroke his hair. Pietro wasn't sure why they were doing this. There was no one there to see, no one to convince, but still they were acting like a couple. And it felt so natural. Like this was how they were supposed to be. Maybe Clint was sitting there pretending it was Natasha's hair he was stroking. Pietro didn't know. He closed his eyes and sighed, not even aware that he was drifting off to sleep.