It was the first night Danny is coming over since they started dating, and Steve was perhaps just a tad nervous. Okay, maybe more than a tad. But Danny was important and this night was important, so Steve was determined to make sure that their evening went as smoothly as possible.

It was a Saturday, so Steve had a lot of time to prepare for Danny’s arrival. He’d gone to the grocery store to get ingredients for tonight’s dinner, and after debating with himself for several minutes, he’d bought an extra toothbrush for Danny in case he decided on spending the night. And then he’d gone to another store to get the supplies they would need if the night went really well. Afterwards, Steve had thought it would be a good idea to straighten up the house a little.

By the time he was dusting knick-knacks in the guest bedroom, Steve had realized that he might have gone a bit overboard with the cleaning. But the end result was worth it. Every single room had been vacuumed and dusted. The towels had been changed and all of the beds had been freshly made, and Steve had even had enough time to start a load of laundry before he took a shower and started making dinner.

And then, after he had changed into one of his dressier suits, Steve realized that he had forgotten to fluff the pillows.

He was so intent on trying to make a particularly stubborn pillow on his couch cooperate that he didn’t notice when Danny entered the house.

“Hi, babe. Is there a reason you’re treating that pillow like an enemy combatant?”

Steve turned around with the pillow still clenched in both hands to face Danny, who looked like he was struggling to contain a laugh. But he was so handsome that Steve couldn’t really care about that.

“Hey,” he said. Realizing that his voice sounded too breathy, he cleared his throat and glanced down at the pillow in his hand, which had gone a limp thanks to the way Steve had tried to beat it into submission. He turned around to set it down back in its normal position on the couch. “I was trying to fluff the pillows,” he muttered to himself.

Danny did actually chuckle at that. “I could tell.” Steve could hear his footsteps coming closer and turned to face him. “You didn’t have to go to all this effort. I’m not Martha Stewart, you know. But the house does look nice.”

Steve sighed in relief and smiled. “Really?”

Danny nodded, and then he let his gaze trail down over Steve’s body and then back up to meet his eyes again. “You look even nicer.”

Steve smirked. He knew that the suit would be a good idea. He leaned down to kiss Danny, but stopped halfway when he heard a familiar melodic ringing noise coming from the other side of the house.

“What the hell is that?”

Steve groaned and screwed his eyes shut in embarrassment. “My laundry. I guess my clothes are dry.”

Danny tilted his head. “You were feeling really domestic today, weren’t you?”

Steve shrugged. “I just wanted to make this place nice for you. I guess I got a little crazy.”

Danny grinned and reached up to hook his hands around the back of Steve’s neck. “Well, luckily for you, I like crazy. I picked you after all.”

Danny showed exactly how much he liked Steve’s crazy tendencies by kissing him full on the mouth. Steve opened his mouth for Danny’s tongue and held him by the waist as Danny guided them back towards Steve’s couch.

By the time Danny finally pulled away to breathe, he was straddling Steve’s lap. He took a few seconds just to pant against Steve’s mouth before he began absently fiddling with the collar of Steve’s shirt. “How much time do we have before dinner’s ready?”

Steve licked his lips, trying to remember. It was difficult to recall anything with Danny on top of him and touching him like that.

“Fifteen more minutes,” he eventually answered.

Danny purred and leaned down for another kiss. “Let’s make the most of them, then.”

Edited at 2017-11-22 12:12 am (UTC)

“I wasn't injured. I was lightly stabbed.”

Leia's face went contorted with disbelief. “I'm sorry, you were stabbed?”

“Lightly!” Han shrunk on to himself in the next second, withered a bit by the glare she sent him when the medic reached for another scanner. “I didn't want to frighten you?”

“Is that a question or a statement?”

He mumbled, “Statement,” before flinching at the medic's probing, “Ow!”

“A light stabbing, huh?”

“A lightsaber stabbing,” the medic told her. “He's lucky it was a glancing blow.”

“Oh, not really. Death would have been kinder to him than I will be.”

"Perdue looked at me when he was talking today," Clint says, barging into Phil's office without so much as a by-your-leave. "So I could lip read."

Phil looks up from his papers, eyebrow quirked.

"He never does that." Clint's loose, leaning up against the door frame with his bow in hand, a study in studied nonchalance. "Even after I asked."

"Oh," Phil says, and turns back to his work.

They eye each other carefully in their peripheral vision while pretending not to stare until Clint nods and casually straightens.

His "Thanks," as he leaves is low, but Phil hears it.