The Life That Pietro Saved

6.5

Peter's birthday was a few months later.

He woke up early.

Steve made pancakes, chocolate chip pancakes to be exact, and some bacon and eggs. He cooked enough to feed the entire U.S. army because he knew the others would expect food too.

Bruce and Natasha were currently on an 'off' of their 'on and offs', so Tasha hung out with Wanda a lot. Bruce hung out in the lab a lot.

Sam Wilson, who dropped by occasionally was sleeping in one of the many guest rooms and Rhodey was supposed to come by later today.

If Steve was lucky, Bucky would show up too. Unfortunately, it was never a solid confirmation. It was 'I'll try to be there.', or 'I hope I'll see you.', because chances were Hydra would get to him or his memory would fritz out and he wouldn't remember to come.

Clint woke up to the shower running. Pietro was no where in sight.

He walked into the bathroom, startling Pietro in the middle of his transfer to the shower chair. Clint darted over and caught his boyfriend.

"Hey babe. I didn't mean to scare you." Clint reassuringly bent down to hug him.

"Good morning." Pietro planted a kiss on Clint's clothed shoulder.

The archer undressed and stood in the shower with his boyfriend.

"How'd you sleep?" Clint sat on the edge of the bathtub to meet eye level with the speedster.

"Okay, like normal. You?" Pietro pulled himself up on the steel bar to his right, quickly washing the backs of his upper thighs before falling back into the seat.

"Good." Clint scrubbed his own hair, trying not to get soap in his eyes.

Once they were both washed, Clint kissed Pietro messily, hands roaming his scarred body.

"Clint..." Pietro's mind clicked. "Clint, it is Peter's birthday, we do not have time."

"Aww." Clint sighed.

"Later, pteechka." Pietro kissed his cheek along with the russian nickname.

"What's that mean?" Clint lifted Pietro up.

"Little bird." He grinned.

Clint set Pietro down on the bed, shaking his head. "That's a cute name."

Pietro gave a half smile as he pulled bunched up jeans over his feet, wiggling slightly to try and get the pants up his legs. They kept bending and moving when all he wanted to do was lock his knees so he could put on the garment.

Clint stayed back, heading to the dresser to grab a shirt. He pulled on a short sleeve shirt that was light purple.

Eventually Pietro did get his pants up, transferring into his chair and adjusting the way his legs sat. He then debated between two shirts, one that was simply the signature Nirvana 'smiley face' and the band's name below it, and one that had 'Raidiohead' in all caps, backwards. He was currently into nineties rock.

"You look hot in both." Clint supplied.

Pietro laughed quietly. "Whatever you say."

"It's true!" Clint insisted.

"Okay."

The Nirvana one was long sleeved so that was the deciding factor, and the silver haired man tugged on the shirt and swept the hair out of his eyes.

The black converse he wore matched, and of course Clint didn't wear shoes around the tower. Most of the team didn't, in common areas other than the gym. They usually didn't even get dressed till noon unless there was an event.

Clint jumped up on the counter next to the five year old. "G'morning."

"'Morning." Peter replied, drinking chocolate milk out of a cup.

"Happy birthday, kiddo." Pietro pushed himself up in his chair a bit to grab a coffee mug out of the cabinet. He couldn't reach so he gave up.

Clint walked over and handed him the cup, kissing him and nosing around by the stove to see what Steve was cooking.

"Go away, Clint. It's not ready yet." Steve didn't even look away from his work.

The archer sighed theatrically. Peter slid off the counter, wandering over to the couch.

Pietro set the cup on the counter and turned around to get Clint to stop bugging Steve.

"Come on, Clint. Stop bothering him." Pietro scolded playfully.

"Ugh, fine."

Clint walked over to the couch and sat down next to Peter. Pietro followed, locking the wheels and sliding to the edge of his chair, trying to transfer successfully to the couch. He always fell in the middle, so he was hoping he could do it himself.

Clint reached out to grab his arm but Pietro just looked up at him with eyes that told him not to help.

He slid himself onto the couch with a small groan and then the speedster pulled an arm under his knees to move his legs in front of him.

Clint gave a half smile, kissing his cheek and pulling him closer.

"So how does it feel to be a five year old?" Clint turned to his nephew.

"No different than four." Peter laughed. "I don't know why they celebrate birthdays."

"Neither do I." The archer agreed.

The child watched in horror as the couple next to him kissed.

"Ew! Cooties!" He squealed, climbing and up onto the adjacent wall.

Clint leapt up and began tickling Peter. The boy jumped off the wall and sprinted towards the couch. Clint caught him like a hawk catches it's prey and the small child wiggled, squealing and laughing as the avenger tickled him.

When he got free he ran around the living room and Clint chased him, letting the boy stay ahead of him.

Peter whispered something in Pietro's ear and the russian grinned and nodded.

Peter continued to play around with Clint, leading the chase closer and closer until finally they were within distance.

Pietro's superhuman reflexes allowed his hands to dart out and pull Clint onto his lap.

"Hey! You're supposed to pick my side!" Clint whined, being careful not to hurt his boyfriend.

"No, I think I'll stay on Peter's side." He began to tickle the assassin.

Peter joined in and they were both ganged up against Clint, who was hysterically laughing on the couch.