"Clint! Stop throwing eggs at me!" Pietro yelled, only to get pelted by three more eggs.
"You want me to stop with the eggs?" Clint taunted, putting the nearly empty carton down. Pietro nodded, wiping yolk from his eyes. Clint nodded and wiped his hands off. "Fine, I'll stop with the eggs." Pietro sighed in relief and started wiping his face off.
"Thanks," Pietro mumbled, setting the towel down. He looked up at Clint and saw white. Literally. Clint threw flour at him. "WHAT THE FUCK!" he screamed, wiping flour from his face.
"You said to stop with the eggs, so I did," Clint said nonchalantly. He threw another handful of flour at Pietro and stared at him, laughing. "Oh my god you look so stupid.
"You wonder why I hate you," the silver-haired man mumbled. He ignored Clint's laughter and pulled open a drawer, pulling out the plastic wrap. Clint's eyes widened and he shook his head vigorously.
"No no no no no no No NO NO PLEASE DON'T!" he shouted, stepping backwards in fear. Pietro smirked evilly and started walking toward him slowly, holding up the plastic wrap menacingly. Then Pietro started running around the blond, trapping him in a blur of black. A few seconds later, Pietro stopped and leaned against the counter to admire his work.
Clint was standing, legs straight and arms by his sides, wrapped completely in plastic wrap. He was covered from the ankles to the neck, and Pietro had even wrapped his whole head - but not his face because then he couldn't be able to breathe.
"I hate you," Clint stated, glaring at the man by the counter. "You are the worst person on the planet." Pietro grinned cheekily and laughed.
"And you look like an idiot," he chuckled. Clint wobbled toward him, looking less menacing than a baby panda bear.
Bucky walked into the kitchen, staring down at his phone. The second he looked up, he turned around and walked out. "Not even going to ask."
"Help please," Clint pleaded. Bucky sighed and dropped his phone in his pocket, striding over to the plastic-wrapped idiot. He looked to Pietro and nodded in approval.
"I remember this one time I tied Steve up in a ton of blankets. It was hilarious." He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a pocket knife, flipping it open. Clint's eyes widened and he shook his head violently.
"PLEASE DON'T STAB ME!" Bucky rolled his eyes and lifted a piece of the plastic wrap and cutting it. He ignored Clint's nervous breathing and cut down his side. Once his arm was freed, Clint ripped the plastic off and glared at Pietro, discreetly flexing his arms. The younger just smirked, knowing that Clint wasn't physically able to keep up with him.
"You're too slow, old man," Pietro teased. Clint shook his head and ignored Pietro, instead checking on the cake in the oven and cleaning up. He swept all the flour into a trash bag and wiped up all the egg. As he was rinsing out his washrag, Natasha walked into the kitchen.
"Help him clean," she ordered Pietro, tossing him a rag as well. Clint snickered, earning himself a flick to the head. "Shush. Where's Barnes?"
"Went that way." Clint pointed down the hall and continued wiping up eggs, purposely bumping into Pietro just to annoy him. "Nat, wait, I have news." He set the rag down and jogged over to her, grinning. "I'm going home!" She smiled.
"Laura finally letting you back?"
"Hey, I went to visit like last month, leave me alone. She said it was fine that I just wanted to hang with you guys 'cause that idiot randomly showed up," he pointed his thumb at Pietro, "and the other idiots got a kid. But yeah, I'm going home in two days!" He was bouncing on the balls of his feet.
"Cool. Gonna go talk to Barnes. By the way, I'm coming with you," she reminded him, walking off down the hall. Clint chuckled and walked back to the counter, grabbing his rag and wiping up the last of the flour from the floor.
"So you're leaving?" asked Pietro, sounding slightly upset. Clint didn't notice.
"Yup. I'll finally be outta your hair," he joked. Pietro forced an extremely fake laugh, but Clint brushed it off.
"Good."
"Rude." The timer went off and Clint clasped his hands together excitedly. "Cake time!" He pulled the cake out of the oven (after putting oven mitts on - he's not that dumb) and placed it on the counter.
"That needs to cool and then we'll take it out of the pan, let it cool more, and decorate it," he explained to Pietro.
"I know how to make cake."
"Yeah, I figured, I just really like cooking," Clint said with a shrug. Pietro rolled his eyes and ran away in a blur, leaving Clint alone in the kitchen. He gathered up the plastic wrap and threw it away and cleaned up the last of the mess.
Vision flew into the kitchen carrying Peter. Clint stared up at him in confusion, as he thought Bruce and Wanda were taking care of the kid. Vision handed him the child and said, "They were having troubles."
"Okay then." Clint held Peter to his chest and Vision left. "Hey Jarvis, when are Steve and Tony coming back?"
"They should arrive in approximately three minutes," the AI informed him.
"Yay," Clint cheered, smiling at Peter. "When your daddies get home, I don't have to take care of you anymore and you can be all their problem, yeah Pete?" he said in a high-pitched voice, making Peter giggle. "Yeah. You won't be my problem anymore little buddy!"
He played with Peter for a few minutes before the couple finally arrived. Clint held Peter's hands and walked him over. "Look it Pete, there are your daddies! Now I don't have to deal with you anymore," he said happily, handing Peter to Steve. Tony was right behind him.
"We signed the papers and we're picking up Peter's dog tomorrow. His name will be Arnold," Tony declared.
"No it won't," Steve reminded him. "Peter gets to pick his name, remember?"
"He can't even talk yet!" Clint exclaimed.
"He has talked before," Tony said casually.
"What?!?!"
"Yeah. He called Steve mama." Tony bumped his hip against Steve's, a playful smirk on his face. Steve rolled his eyes and shook his head.
"No he didn't. I did win the 'papa' vs 'dada' race though."
"That's because you suck," the brunet mumbled.
Natasha rounded the corner with Bucky in tow and plopped down on the couch, pulling him down next to her. "Gimme the kid," she requested, holding her arms out. Steve blinked at her and shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Rude."
"Can I hold him?" Bucky asked in a small voice. Steve looked at him for a second.
"You sure, Buck?"
"Yeah," he said confidently. Steve gave it another moments thought before carefully placing Peter in the lap of his best friend. Peter stared up at him with his little kid smile and his few teeth and Bucky stared back. He gently lifted Peter up into a standing position and they stared at each other, eye to eye. Peter giggled and leaned forward, kissing Bucky's nose and making him laugh.
"He's cute."
Natasha made a grabby motion with her hands. "Gimme my nephew please."
"Nope," Bucky said with a grin to Peter.
"Fine. Hey Steve, can I teach him Russian when he talks?" she called to the blond, raising an eyebrow quizzically.
"Not until he learns English first," Steve replied.
"'Kay." She looked at Peter. "Pete," she whispered, "once you learn the language of these people, I'm teaching you the important things, like Russain and Gaelic so you can confuse your papa."
"Oh god, Steve and his Gaelic. Used to mess with me all the time with that shit," Bucky said with a chuckle.
"Not my fault my ma was cooler than yours," Steve said in a sing-song voice.
"Oh shut it, punk." Bucky reached up and shoved Steve, getting a flick to the head in return. Clint walked behind the couch and leaned down, stealing Peter right out of Bucky's grasp. He lifted the kid up and set him on his shoulders.
"He's gonna be tall one day," Clint said matter-o-factly. "He's gonna be tall and thin and he'll look like Stark but he'll be strong and agile."
"Yeah," Natasha agreed.
"How could he end up looking like me?" Tony asked, bewildered.
Clint shrugged. "He just will. Brown hair, brown eyes, you guys have practically the same nose; genetics was the only thing I liked in my few years of school. Before the circus." Just to show off, Clint stepped up on top of the sofa and balanced on the back of it, walking across with Peter on his shoulders.
"If you drop my kid I will sue you," Tony warned.
"I won't. Professional circus training, man. I'm an expert." Clint stopped at the end of the couch and pulled Peter off his shoulders, handing him to Natasha. "Watch this." He balanced himself and bent down, mind set on a goal. Then, Clint sprung off the back of the couch into a flip, spun twice in the air, and landed firmly on his feet with his knees bent.
"Wait, hold on, how will Peter end up looking the same as Stark when they don't share the same DNA?" Bucky questioned.
"I never said I paid attention, I just said genetics was the only thing I liked," Clint clarified, leaving the group to go up the stairs. He leaned over the rail and said clearly, "O Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name; Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, And I'll no longer be a Capulet."
Natasha recited the next line in response. "Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?"
Clint continued on as Juliet, to Natasha as Romeo. "'Tis but thy name that is my enemy;
Thou art thyself, though not a Montague.
What's Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot,
Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part
Belonging to a man. O, be some other name!
What's in a name? that which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as-" Tony cut him off with a loud groan.
"We get it, Juliet, now shut it," the brunet yelled up to him.
"To be, or not to be- that is the question: Whether it is nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take arms against a sea of troubles, and by opposing end them?" Clint yelled back down.
"Shut up," Tony groaned.
"There is nothing good or bad, only thinking makes it so," the blond quoted again.
"I will stab you, Barton."
"Violence is never the answer my dearest little man of iron," he teased.
"Yup, gonna stab you." Steve gave him a look. "Never mind," Tony grumbled.
"Thanks for the save, Blondie. Not that I needed it, but thanks."
"Jarvis, please pass on this message to Pietro," Natasha said politely before yelling, "MAXIMOFF, WE NEED SOME BARTON EXTRACTION UP IN HERE!" There was a rush of wind as the man ran up the stairs and past the group, the blur going up the stairs and stopping at Clint. He picked the older man up like he weighed nothing and smiled goofily.
"Hold tight and make sure you breathe," the younger advised before taking off. The wind was instantly knocked out of Clint's lungs and he squeezed his eyes shut, clinging tightly to Pietro. It was all over in a few seconds however, and Clint found himself standing in his room. He saw Pietro leaning against the wall and collapsed, breathing heavy and feeling sick.
"Too fast," he heaved, clutching Pietro's arm as the younger leaned down next to him. Pietro rubbed his back soothingly and chuckled.
"Sorry. I forgot about that. It get's slower the more you do it."
"Too fast," Clint repeated, curling up on the floor next to Pietro's leg. His head rested slightly on the younger's thigh and he clutched onto his arm tightly. "Feel sick," he mumbled.
"I can get you something if you want," Pietro offered, making a move to stand up. Clint shook his head and held him there.
"No. Stay. Don't feel good but I don't need meds. Need sleep."
"Okay. Get on your bed then." Pietro carefully lifted Clint up and laid him on the bed. The blond clutched his head and curled up around his pillow, letting out a long, low groan.
"Aspirin please." Pietro chuckled and zoomed away, returning seconds later with aspirin and water. He helped Clint take the pills and smiled at him as the blond tried to sleep.
In the time Pietro had been at the tower, he noticed that Clint never ever took his coms out of his ears. The rest of the team did, but Clint didn't. Pietro figured there was something wrong with Barton's ears and decided to ask when the blond awoke again. He left the room and rejoined the group in the living room, but his mind was on Clint.
~•~
"My boy's almost a year," Tony said happily. He turned to his son. "Your birthday is tomorrow Peter, you'd better start talking and find yourself a job so you can pay rent," he joked.
Natasha was having a small conversation with Bucky in Russian. As for the rest of the group, Sam had joined them and was laying on the floor, but he was still participating in the conversation. Tony was seated on the couch in front of Steve with Peter in his lap, cracking jokes and talking about Peter's upcoming birthday. Pietro was sitting on a chair, staring off tiredly.
"Clint's almost done with the cake, right Pietro?" Steve questioned, snapping the boy back into the real world.
"Yes. Just needs decorating."
"Yeah, Clint's almost done with that and then we just need to pick up Peter's puppy tomorrow."
"Sweet," Sam said from the floor.
"This has been a pretty good day, huh guys?" Tony asked, leaning back into Steve's chest. The blond wrapped his arms around his husband's waist and smiled. The group nodded and Tony let his head fall back against Steve's shoulder.
"Pretty good day, babe," Steve murmured, pecking Tony's cheek.
"Good birthday prep day, if I do say so myself," the brunet replied, pressing his lips to Steve's with a smile. The blond nodded.
"Yep."