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On second thought, the toast might have been too much.

Clint stared at the destruction around him. Bits of eggshell and flour covered the floor, the smell of burnt eggs and Pam floated through the air, and dirty dishes were strewn across the counter. The mess aside, Clint thought he did a pretty decent job (considering the only thing he made on a regular basis was Ramen).

The toast however… now that was bad. He really didn’t give it a second thought until it caught on fire.

“Shit!” The avenger muttered as he snatched the toast out of the toaster and smothered the flames. Smoke from the now extinguished toast drifted up and right into the waiting sensors of the fire alarm.

“Shit shit shit!!” Clint said as the alarm began to sound at an excruciating volume. He winced as feedback from his hearing aids flooded his system. With nimble fingers, he pulled his aids out and shook his head – trying to clear it. He ran over to the alarm, toast and hearing aids still in hand, and untwisted it from the ceiling. Clint placed it on the ground and threw a jacket over it. By the time he put his hearing aids back in, the beeping had stopped.

Clint stepped back and sighed. That definitely would have woken Y/n up. The whole point of breakfast in bed was to be woken up by food not by the sweet, sweet sound of a military grade fire alarm!

He grabbed a butter knife and tried to scrape off the blackened parts of the toast. There was really no saving it – it was burnt all the way through. But save it he did! Clint slapped some butter on there and threw it on the tray with the rest of the food.

The avenger wiped his hands on his (borrowed) apron and grabbed the tray. He waltzed into the bedroom, humming as he did so.

Y/n was just sitting up - stretching her legs under the covers and yawning. “What was that? Is everything all right?”

“Good morning! Yeah everything’s fine. Just an accident,” He replied, quietly closing the door with his foot. “I have a surprise for you!”

“Really!? What is it- What is that?” Y/n interrupted herself as she noticed the tray in his hands.

“Ta-da! I made breakfast in bed for my girlfriend,” Clint never got tired of saying that word.

“Oh my God really??” Y/n squeaked. “That’s so sweet of you!!”

Clint beamed as he placed the tray, ever so gently, onto Y/n’s lap. He crawled into bed and kissed her quickly on the lips before settling down next to her.

“Ohhh!” She exclaimed, looking down at the spread in front of her. There were pancakes with syrup, scrabbled eggs, orange juice, and- “Is this toast?” She picked up something that resembled a flatten piece of charcoal.

“No! I mean yes…Well it was, but you don’t have to eat it,” Clint smiled and scratched his head. “That may or may not be the reason for the commotion you heard. Apparently the fire alarm doesn’t like my cooking.”

Y/n laughed. “Apparently it doesn’t like thoughtfulness either, because this is lovely.”

“Try the pancakes!” Clint pointed. “They’re blueberry…with a twist!”

“Oh! Ok,” She was a little nervous as she cut herself a piece. The first few bites were good! But It went down hill as soon as she encountered something slightly tangy and very chewy. Y/n choked.

“What’s the twist honey?”

“The twist is we’re out of blueberries. So I improvised.”

“What I am eating then?” It was very hard to keep the pancake inside her mouth.

“Raisins.”

A smile twitched at her lips; she chuckled – then burst into laughter. She couldn’t calm down for several minutes and when she did there were tears in her eyes.

“You know raisins aren’t dried blueberries right? Please tell me you know that. I need a verbal conformation,” Y/n cackled.

Clint started laughing too. “Yeah I know! But it seemed really close at the time!” He adopted a serious tone. “Cooking is all about improvisation. Any master chef knows this.”

“Well Mr. Master Chef, have a taste of your own medicine,” Y/n offered a piece of raisin pancake to Clint, who gladly took it.

“Hmm, ya know, I stand by this. It’s actually ok,” He said not caring that his mouth was full. “But you don’t have to eat it if you don’t want to.”

“I might not,” Y/n gave him an apologetic smile. “These eggs, however, look delicious.”

“Didn’t even burn them,” He responded with puppy like enthusiasm.

“Didn’t even burn them!” She repeated with a smile. Y/n scooped up a healthy amount and began to chew. Her face twisted and her lips pinched. Ever so slowly, Y/n leaned down and spit the half-chewed eggs back onto the plate. She looked up at Clint.

“So…just… how much salt did you use? Out of curiosity.”

“Too much?” He guessed.

“A little more than too much.”

“Well everyone says to season with salt and pepper! But I couldn’t find the pepper, so I just used salt.”

“Who’s everyone?” Y/n laughed.

“I don’t know the cooking…people. Everyone says so.”

“It was a valiant effort. But maybe a taste test or two wouldn’t go amiss.”

Clint smiled but then sighed and leaned back. “This was supposed to be nice and romantic but now it’s just…”

“Still nice and romantic. The fact you put in the effort to make me breakfast in bed speaks for itself. I think this is the best breakfast anyone’s ever made me.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“It has the best intentions.” Y/n leaned in and kissed him; salt still lingering on her lips. “But you know what is also very romantic? Going down in our pajamas to that breakfast place I like over on 34th Ave and getting waffles to go.”

“That sounds pretty good too!” Clint said instantly perking up. He jumped out of bed and pulled the tray off of Y/n’s lap. Just before he darted into the kitchen, he looked back. “After that we should go grocery shopping… we’re out of pretty much everything…I dropped half a carton of eggs.” He walked out.

Y/n smile. She jumped out of bed and pulled on pajama pants.

“Hey,” Y/n said as she poked her head out of their bedroom door. She slipped on her shoes. “I love you.”

Clint smiled. “I love you too.”