She was still coming to terms with the idea of being close to anyone when she had first climbed into his window that night, tired yet still too awake to go home and besides - he had left it open. They had talked a lot, something she hadnât expected at all, she also hadnât expected how easy it was for her to get along with him and to feel at ease. Bobbi didnât dwell on it too much before she found herself kissing him and things had found their course from there. They visited one another frequently enough since then, she had more than once come home to find him on her fire escape sulking cause sheâd left the window locked, or complaining because she hadnât got his favorite snacks in her cupboard anymore. No matter what it was, it was easy between them.
Once again though he broke her train of thought by speaking, her hands still on his chest from where she had pushed him toward the door now barely exerting any force to get him to move, âThat too, I figured it was a good bribe. Was it not?â Her brow raised in question with that playful grin, even exhausted from a fight she enjoyed his company and that was a rarity. âBut really, wanna order chinese food after? Iâm starving.â
The only problem now was the Avenger issue, she wasnât part of the team but had always felt most comfortable with them, from Natasha and Sharon understanding the agent side of things even to the fact that more than a few of them had experienced death and some form of life changing serum. That wasnât the problem though, the problem came any time she thought about what happened when she, Peter and Clint were all in one room together. Barton knew her too well, would know right away and Peter? He was just plain awkward at times.
Donât mix work and pleasure, right? Thatâs what they said? Donât sorta-date your coworkers? Because if things got messy, well. Things got messy. But this wasnât dating. There werenât emotions here, no sir, absolutely not. And they were barely coworkers, barely teammates--both late-addition, half-roster, come-and-go Avengers. If Barton found out, they probably wouldnât be teammates at all.
But she got it. It was kind of cool, actually, to go from patrol back home together, turning in from a long dayâs work side by side (or, well, swinging above her head, but whatever). It was nice to not have to hide. Peter Parker had dated people, always making horrible excuses for those last-minute cancellations and his inability to hold down a dinner reservation, and, hell, even Spider-Man had had his fun. But heâd never really had a chance to be both at once, not with one person, not with someone whoâd been there, who wouldnât shame him for it, who didnât need him to hide.
It was... kind of nice. This was a thing he could do, he thought. There was a future for someone like him. There was a world where he could live in his entirety with other people, all the messy pieces brought together. He was so used to being parts of a person--Spider-Man, masked, dashing hero-about-town; Peter Parker, disheveled, clumsy everyman--at the end of the day, Peter didnât know who he was. He wasnât sure heâd ever be able to find out, not if he had to keep living in hiding.
This was an exhalation. It wasnât forever, and it didnât have to be. It was a much-needed deep breath, for both of them. It was teasing each other in the kitchen at the end of a long day, it was her helping him with the zipper on his suit and trading stories about their day--all of it. Yeah, it was nice.
Also, yeah, she was hot. He wasnât blind. âIt did the job,â he teased, and grabbed the hand she laid against his chest.
âPlease,â he said. âI would die for chow mein. Ooh, and dumplings. Cold sesame noodles? Scallion pancake? Wait, no, dumplings. Dumplings, Bobbi.âÂ