Hungry

Chapter 18

"Plain," Peter demanded. "It's Bruce's fault," Tony shrugged. 

Click

Cakoo

Peter pouted when he saw Clint holding a camera directed at him. "Oh, you'll never hear the end of this," Clint teased once more. Peter hit his fist against his side, glaring at Clint with hatred, before full-blown crying. Pepper shushed him, bouncing him lightly. Steve looked over at Tony, ignoring the now bawling baby.

"Call his aunt?"
Tony lifted his phone to his ear with an eye roll. "Calling Aunt Hottie." Peter burried his face into the crook of Pepper's neck. "Shuddup," Peter muffled. "That's no way to talk to your father~" Clint murmured.

Pepper glared back at Clint, who only smirked, leaning back satisfied. Tony stood up and left to continue his call, and Pepper left Peter on the floor.

"I'm going to go get someone who actually knows what they're doing," Pepper explained, shooting Clint a glare, "You're in charge Steve~!"

"Yeah, okay," Steve replied half-mindedly. Pepper gave him a thumbs up before leaving. Clint looked at Steve for a moment. "So, Cap. Can I baby the kid or what?" Steve glared at Clint. "Aren't you the one with kids?"

"But this is Peter we are talking about," Clint whined. Peter, feeling as though Clint would get his way, immediately crawled to the wall and climbed up it. Considering he was still wearing the same clothes from the before, hanging off his small little body, it didn't take long for the men to realize that the boy was hanging up on the ceiling.

"Peter!" Steve cried in horror. Normally, he wouldn't even blink when Peter crawled onto the ceiling--as much as he did--but with Peter being a little toddler, it now worried him, for his health and all. Peter's shirt hung slightly, revealing the bandaging on his back and chest, and he clearly was nowhere near done healing.

"Get down!" Clint demanded in a stern father tone. "Make me 'Lint!" Peter giggled, crawling further away from their grasp. "That mother's adrenaline is kicking in," Steve muttered, twitching.

 "I see evwy quation," Peter babbled. Clint studied Peter for a moment. "Peter, you're going to hurt yourself badly if you don't come down. This. Instant."

Peter smirked, his childish dimples showing. Peter stuck his tongue out. His answer...was clear. Clint nodded understandingly before turning to Steve. "I have an idea," Clint whispered into Steve's ear.

Steve listened closely before nodding. Clint then waved before leaving. "I'm going to go get some tacos, want some?" Steve glared back at Clint as he left. Steve looked back at Peter lovingly.

"Peter. Sweetie. Love of my life. My little Bubala. Please come down," Steve cooed. "I don't wanna," Peter whined. "Come on please?" Steve stood on the coffee table, getting somehow closer. Peter whimpered when he crawled backward, wincing slightly at his abdomen pain.

 As he crawled backward, he neared the ventilation shaft.

"Please, Babala. We can watch Supernatural and I'll even make--" Peter squealed when he felt two hands grab him carefully around his waist, holding him tightly so he couldn't get away. "Gotcha~"

Clint hopped out of the ventilation skillfully with Peter still in his arms, squirming and punching like a baby. Steve hopped off the table and ruffled Peter's hair. "I actually didn't think it'd work," Steve chuckled weakly.

"Screw you!" Peter whined. Clint gave him a swift swat to his thigh, it wasn't hard, seeing that Peter's pants no longer were around his waist basically. What Clint didn't expect, however, was to feel bones and skin, and no fat at all. Peter screamed in pain and Clint put him down in horror.