Peter & Bucky Are Pals

Chapter 45

The next morning, Peter was woken unceremoniously by someone leaping onto the end of his bed and bouncing up and down while singing his name in a surprisingly adept baritone. He flailed his way into sitting position, rubbing at his eyes and squinting at Clint in confusion.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in the ceiling?”

“Nat’s not mad at me anymore!” Clint replied cheerfully. “Well, relatively, I guess. Tony took the shoes that got ruined and tried to put repulsors in them for fun, and now she’s super pissed at him, so she’s pretty much forgotten that I was the one who got them ruined in the first place!”

Peter stretched his arms over his head and yawned, mumbling, “Good for you, I guess?”

“Thanks, buddy! Just don’t tell her I was in the ceiling, alright? I know she’ll find out about it at some point, but I’m trying to delay that as much as I can.”

“Doesn’t she already know about the air vents?” Peter asked, confused.

“Yeah, but she doesn’t know about the crawl space in the ceiling! I mean, I’m sure she does, but I’m banking on the hope that she thinks I’m not smart enough to have found it yet.”

“You should give yourself more credit,” said Peter. “I’m sure she thinks better of you than that.”

Clint deflated slightly. “Yeah, it’s probably wishful thinking. I bet that she knew I was in there all along and she was just humoring me or some shit.”

“Probably,” Peter agreed absentmindedly, leaning down to grab two unmatched socks from the floor and pulling them onto his feet without much consideration.

“You’re pretty blunt when you’re tired,” Clint remarked, sounding oddly proud. “It’s refreshing.”

Peter shook himself to attention. “What?”

“Never mind,” Clint said, grinning. “C’mon, let’s clean your room! The puppy is coming today and you don’t want her to swallow your socks!”

Peter laughed a little, then fell silent for a beat. “You were kidding, right? They don’t actually eat socks.”

“You’d be surprised,” said Clint sagely. “They pull all sorts of things out of dogs’ stomachs.”

Peter wrinkled his nose, looking slightly nauseated at the idea. “We should get started, then.”

“Yep!” Clint studied the messy floor, then flopped back onto Peter’s bed with a sigh. “...Yep.”

“Are you going to help?” Peter asked, picking up a pair of jeans from beside his bed.

Clint looked mildly alarmed. “I wasn’t planning on it.”

Peter pouted and blinked at him. “Please?”

“You’re too fucking precious for your own good. Dammit! Fine.” Clint clambered to his feet and started chucking socks at the laundry basket in the corner of the room.

Peter pulled on an oversized shirt, probably one that Bucky or Steve had leant him, and scooped a couple notebooks off the floor. “JARVIS, can you play some Alt-J?”