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#idk yall never sleep in the same bed as ur bsf?
monpalace · 2 years
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When Pietro tells his lover what he wants to do while half-asleep. He wasn’t supposed to actually do it.
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"I wanna have a pac-man machine." Pietro had admitted when his mind was finally muddled with sleep, his fifth day of hibernation after a particularly hard mission had taken its toll. His fingers had begun vibrating as he slipped deeper into the confines of his mind, only managing to keep them still enough to hold yours and not phase past the molecules of your hand. "I know you wanna put a tv near where I wanna put it, but we could put it beside it."
Sleepily smiling at him, you press a kiss to the boney area of his wrist. "Alright," you whisper back, not bothering to clear your throat when the gravel fills it. "We'll think about it."
You aren't given the liberty of opening your eyes on your own time when afternoon of the next day comes.
Pietro was relentless in his efforts to wake you up, pushing and shoving you from one way before speeding over to the other and repeating the action. "Babe— babe— babe!" He exclaims, words cutting into themselves as one thought process interrupts the next and the one before it. "Guess what I got!"
Knowing his impatience, you wrap your arms around his neck with as much strength you can muster so early into your waking and shiver when his frigid hands secure themselves on your thigh and neck. He doesn't speed as he usually would, but he does move at his most-certainly-faster-than-everything-else pace.
Setting you down comfortably on the living room sofa and wrapping you in a blanket in a way that you could still use your arms, Pietro speeds to the kitchen and brings out a poorly made breakfast tray.
"I know you said we'd think about it, but I felt like you'd say no so I got you something else to sweeten the deal."
"Was it this food or did you steal something?"
"Both!"
"Continue."
Biting his lip, Pietro holds up a finger and tries to say "give me a few seconds," before cutting himself off by rushing away.
When you pick up your fork, there's a large, thin box on the floor. When you stab a piece of fruit onto one if its throngs, a flatscreen tv with a jumbled mess of wires sat upon the wall. When you bring the fork up to your mouth, the wires were taken care of and out of sight.
When your lips part for the fruit, there's a pac-man machine beside it.
It was a reasonable enough distance to not be distracting or an eyesore, and the retro style of it matched the rest of your shared living space— but it was still a fully blown arcade machine.
"I read two instructions manuals for these!" The silver speedster exclaims while gesturing vaguely at the machines, his accent slipping through his words as more emotion entered his voice. "Two, babe! It was so hard!"
Placing the tray and drink to the side, you stand with a look that expressed more than just your exhaustion. Your hands run along the old, eighties machine and find no spots of rust on it.
He must've cleaned it before or while he was setting it up.
"How far out did you go?"
"Sweden."
"Sweden?"
"Visby."
"Visby, Sweden?"
"Am I speaking to fast?"
With a pointed look from you, Pietro's lips thin as he picks you up, trudges over to the couch, places you it, and collapses on it. "Sorry," he mutters, laying his head on your lap. Fatigue creeping its way back into his bones.
"Have you eaten today?" You ask, already pressing the fork (with the fruit still on it) to his lips. You smile down at him when he shakes his head while opening his mouth to take the offering. "Then I guess you can have the entire plate then."
"I made it for you, though," he argues.
"I'm not the one who decided to run halfway across the globe while recovering."
"I've been bested."
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