Clint Barton couldn't believe the prank his nephew had just successfully pulled on him. Honestly, he should've realized that his toilet had been covered in plastic wrap before he'd tried to pee into it.
He had to admit, the prank was a good one, but it was the middle of the night and he'd walked into the bathroom barefoot. It was simply disgusting. He would get back at his nephew even worse, that was for sure.
The prank war between the two had been going on for a mere two months. At first it'd been small pranks, like the coin of which Peter had colored the edge with a pencil and told him he couldn't roll it from his face down to his nose. Or the sugar he so loved in his morning coffee that had been replaced with salt.
Once he'd started to get back at the kid, like putting an airhorn behind his bedroom door or brought him home a box of 'chicken nuggets' filled to the brim with vegetables, Peter's pranks became meaner and better as well. With the help of a friend, the boy had covered Clint's entire car in post-it notes one day. He'd filled a donut with mayonnaise that Clint had previously marked as his in the common room refrigerator. But Clint was not one to back down after anything, and he came up with his own share of mean pranks.
He knew the kid was deathly afraid of spiders and snakes, and scared him to pieces on more than one occasion. But Peter outsmarted him with most of his ideas. Like putting mentos into icecubes and watching gleefully has the cola Clint was drinking one day exploded into the man's face.
The final prank that Clint had pulled on his nephew before the... pee incident had been filling one of his beloved little bottles of apple juice with vinegar and watching the boy gag in disgust.
But now that he stood in his bathroom at four in the morning, piss covering his legs and feet, Clint decided that the fun was over. He would get proper revenge on his nephew.
The prank he decided to pull was an old school one which Clint knew was a bit... childish, to say the least, but it might as well be taken as not even a prank, and that was the fun of it. His nephew was eight years old, he could take a little something like that.
After waiting for over a week Clint finally prepared a bowl with warm water at one in the morning, sneaked into Peter's room and hid under his bed for a bit, making sure the boy was fast asleep. Then, he pulled himself out from under the bed, took the kid's left hand and placed it in the bowl. He heard a slight hiss, probably only possible through the advanced setting in his hearing aids and he knew the job was done. Carefully, he hid back under the bed just before Peter seemed to stir awake.
It took the boy just a bit over a minute to realize why he'd woken up, and Clint felt a pang of guilt in his heart when he heard a sob escape his nephew.
After some sniffling and shuffling around with the occasional sob making Clint feel more and more guilty, Peter finally got up and left the room. Clint watched silently as Peter walked out of his room in pee-soaked pajama pants and then left once the coast was clear, leaving no trail of evidence behind.
The boy walked into his parents' bedroom still sniffling and sobbing occasionally, his sounds picking up in volume once he realized he would actually have to tell his pops what had happened. Peter was glad his other father was out of town, he was daddy's big boy and big boys didn't wet their bed.
Pops awoke before Peter even had to say anything. He sat up immediately when he realized why he'd woken up, and looked at Peter standing at the side of his bed. It was dark in the room, and Steve rubbed his eyes before asking: "Hey baby boy what's wrong?" Peter continued to sniffle, rubbing at his eyes as Steve's finally started to adjust to the darkness. That was when a slight smell of ammonia hit him.
"Oh Pete did you have an accident?" the man said softly and turned on the lamp on his bedside table to see his assumption confirmed.
Peter nodded miserably in response, looking at the floor in front of his feet rather than in his Pop's eyes. "It's okay baby boy, why don't we get you cleaned up and you can sleep here for the rest of the night, okay?"
"Okay Pops," Peter nodded and rubbed his face.
Steve got up and took his son's hand into his own and led him back to his bedroom. The boy was quiet as they walked, only sniffling from time to time, finally seeming to calm down.
Once they reached the room, Steve walked Peter to his closet. "Which pajamas do you wanna wear?" He asked the boy.
"Hawkeye," Peter smiled slightly. Clint was his favorite right now, the pranks were a lot of fun.
"Hawkeye it is," Steve said and took out the purple pieces, taking them and Peter into the boys bedroom and telling Peter to sit down on the closed toilet lid.
He stripped off his son's pajama pants that were soaked down to his knees and then used a wet wipe to rub his inner thighs clean. Afterwards, he handed Peter two wet wipes, told him to clean off his crotch and went to deal with the bed. He did a quick job at it; the mattress had a plastic cover over it anyway that they'd just left on when Peter had started to stay dry at night shortly after he'd been adopted. He hadn't used it since, but Steve was glad it was on right then to let him do the job faster.
"I'm done pops," Peter said just when Steve entered the bathroom with the pile of sheets in his arms to throw them down the laundry chute.
Pops helped his son into the Hawkeye pjs he adored so much and soon, they were back in his and Tony's bed.
Steve lay on his back with Peter sitting on his stomach, ready to tickle the boy so he would finally laugh, but the boy once again looked really upset, eyes filling with tears again.
"Hey, what is it?" Steve asked and pulled Peter gently to lie down on his chest, tears now wetting his shirt.
"I'm sorry I'm such a baby," the boy sniffled. "Please don't tell daddy, I don't want him to know I'm not a big boy."
Steve grimaced in pain at his boy's words. "Oh sweetheart an accident doesn't make you any less of a big boy. Everyone has accidents."
"Really?" the boy asked with a confused tone in his voice and Steve chuckled.
"Yes sweetheart. In fact, your dad wet the bed a few months back," Pops said, having expected that occurrence to become useful at some point.
Peter sat up, looking his pops in the eyes. "Dad? Really?"
Steve nodded. "He drank too much before bed and his body was too tired to wake up," Steve shrugged his shoulders, showing to Peter that this was really no big deal at all.
"See baby, it's really no big deal. Let's catch some sleep now before he comes home tomorrow morning, yeah?" Steve kissed Peter's forehead and then turned the light on the nightstand off.
While father and son were sleeping on their family floor, Clint tossed and turned in his bed just a floor above. He felt extremely bad for having done that to Peter. He'd expected for the boy to be a bit confused maybe, and go and ask his pops for help, but never had he thought he would start bawling his eyes out.
Needless to say, the man decided to spoil Peter with an uncle/nephew day out and would tell him that it'd been him while they ate ice cream and apologize an abundance of times, knowing that Peter was the best kid in the world and probably wouldn't even be mad at him.