Not nearly as adept at coming out of nowhere, Clint probably had plenty of time to brace himself before Tony run-leap-glomped him from behind. "Christmas is coming!" he announced unnecessarily.
“Well, it is December. It’s a pattern…always seems to happen right at the end, doesn’t it?” Clint grinned, leaning into the tackle, letting Tony’s momentum carry him for a moment. “Hi.”
“Awww, tiny one.” Clint grinned, shaking his head at Tony’s joke. “You’re a goose. Nom times?”
“Noooommmmm” Tony fake-bit Clint’s shoulder. “And before you ask, of course I fed him before he zonked into his spaghettios. Seriously. We can have whatever we want, and he wants spaghettios. How?!?”









