Clint sniffed the air. Onions, peppers, and garlic. Mmm... Wait, why were good smells coming from his apartment? He had a really bad feeling about this.
Had he left something on the stove? When was the last time he'd even used the stove? A couple of months ago? Last year?
Clint unlocked his door and sighed. Wade Wilson had broken into his apartment. Again.
"It's about time you got home, dinner was ready ten minutes ago." Wade crossed his arms, spatula still gripped tightly in his fist.
Not again. Clint shook his head. Why did this keep happening to him? "Is it too late to turn around and run?"
"Run? Why would you run? I made meatloaf, garlic mashed potatoes, and a lovely green bean casserole." Wade put the spatula down. "The kind you make with a can of cream of whatever soup."
"Cream of whatever?" Did he even want to know? Probably not. This was the second time Wade had unlawfully entered Clint's apartment to cook for Clint. It was weird, even for Wade. And the worst part? The food had been amazing. Clint's stomach rumbled at the memory. Clint sighed. "I guess you can stay a little while."
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