Steve groaned softly into that kiss, hands sliding along Clint’s back and sides. “Yeah, well, he’s done now so can we please get the hell out of here and go home? Maybe pick up some pizzas to take back with us?”
Clint smiled as he pulled away, lacing his fingers with Steve’s as they headed to his car. “Pizza sounds great.” He agreed. “And despite what Fury thinks, I’m fine from that hit I took. It was a graze.” He rolled his eyes as he took his jacket off and laid it in the backseat, a bandage wrapped around his upper right arm. “I’m not the fragile maiden in need of rescuing he likes to portray me as.” He hated when he got hit worse than that, because it always took a while to recover good, and Fury would preach at the team to keep an eye on him for weeks. He shook his head to dispel that thought in favor of smiling at Steve. “Where do you wanna get the pizza?”
themusechronicles 