It was a rough and slow start between the two of them for the first week after Peter had expressed to Clint that the pull-ups made him feel safe. They were both interested in exploring the new dynamic, but it was also scary and new, which made both of them cautious and apprehensive.
On one hand, Clint wanted to jump into it feet first. He missed his kids and he wanted to fill that empty, gnawing void in his stomach with some sort of love and nurturing affection towards a child. As a dad, he felt like he was hardwired to protect and love children (especially those who seemed as upset as Peter).
On the other hand, it was hard for Clint to cope with the fact that Peter was not his one of his two children and was in fact quite different to them in many ways. For one there was the fact that Peter was much older than his children, regardless of the way he acted, and his actions admittedly came from a place of deep trauma.
Clint was no stranger to have a messed up childhood, but he had reacted to similar situations far differently than Peter had. When he was faced with abuse and death and pain in his life, he had become hard and jaded, not trusting anyone. Peter was the exact opposite. He was soft and sensitive and reacting to trauma by regressing to a time when the trauma simply didn’t exist.
On top of the trauma, Peter was a far more feminine child than either of his biological children were. Which was of course not an issue for him because kids come in all shapes and sizes and Clint was never one for the ridiculous nature of gender roles, in particular when it came to children’s toys. But he still didn’t necessarily feel prepared for how different Peter’s interests were. Sure he loved legos, but the boy would far rather play with a barbie than a soccer ball; and earlier that week, when Clint had helped put him out after a second night time accident, Peter had asked with teary eyes if Clint could help him shave his legs because he hated the way they looked covered in hair. Clint had happily obliged and now Peter’s legs were smooth and shiny and they had even found a soft smelling lotion to lather on them after he showered that claimed to make the hair grow back slower.
The first chance they had to meet together, a day and a half later when the rest of the Avengers were called to a meeting that was not relevant to Clint or Peter, they had devoted a few hours to research. At first Peter had scrunched up his nose when they could only find search results about sexual relationships on google. But within about 15 minutes they had stumbled on information about non sexual dynamics and further on using age regression as a coping mechanism for trauma. The website had explained had explained that regressing to a younger age was a tool survivors used to escape and relive their childhoods in a safe, happy and healthy way. Often times the age regressors were referred to as littles and they would have someone that took care of them, that in general was a caregiver but was often referred to as a daddy or mommy depending on the comfort level of the little. Clint and Peter weren’t at that level of comfort yet, but Clint fleetingly hoped they would make it there someday.
Clint had also learned that spanking Peter may do more harm than good, especially if there was violence involved in Peter’s trauma history. But at the same time, he wasn’t quite convinced that spanking was entirely bad. But to be honest, he felt like that was part of his own trauma history that he was yet to unpack and wasn’t ready to unpack regardless. Violence was a huge part of his life as a young child, he wasn’t an childhood abuse survivor for nothing. Spanking had been considered socially acceptable for the longest time, though no was more of a moral grey area, and it seemed like the only real and not truly destructive way to punish child. However, watching Peter cry had truly made him reflect on his thoughts on spanking as a for of punishment and maybe one day, when he’s feeling less panicky about his own past, the two of them will discuss it.
That first night Clint had started to introduce a bedtime routine, while being conscious of not pushing too hard or too fast. He didn’t want to alienate the boy or make him feel uncomfortable, but he also feared that Peter would stop functioning without some sort of age regression bedtime routine introduced into their life. It had clearly taken a lot for the boy to open up to Clint about the pull-ups and the safety he felt and he wasn’t about to squander that trust so quickly.
So a routine was developed. Bath time first (if they had time), then the good smelling lotion, followed by a pull-up snuggly being pulled onto his tiny frame, maybe a movie and then a bedtime story. Clint prided himself on telling the best bedtime stories and every night for the past week Peter had curled up in Clint’s bed to hear a magical tale before falling asleep curled up next to the man. If there was one thing Clint had learned over the past week of sharing a bed with Peter was that the boy sucked his thumb when he slept and it was the cutest thing the man thinks he has ever witnessed in his entire life. Well at least until things just started getting cuter today.
It was a Saturday afternoon and Stark had once again asked him to keep an eye on the boy while he was out of the building. Apparently Peter had told the man he really liked Clint and felt safe with him, because Stark had corned him to tell him not to mess with the boy’s trust before he had to leave.
Up until this point, the two had only been exploring their dynamic in the early evening into night. So far they had only really watched 1.5 movies, lego batman and half of barbie princess and the pauper before Peter had fallen asleep, read a few stories together and cuddled. It was nothing major and only little comforts that a small child would enjoy. Up until this point Clint had mainly been running the show and bar the one tantrum, Peter had been cute and quite and compliant.
But today was clearly different, because when Clint had first went to check on the boy Peter was half naked and trying to pull one of his pull-ups over his smooth legs. He was failing however and nearly toppled over due to being unbalanced.
“Hey, hey kid let me help you there.” Clint rushed forward, grabbing the boy’s waist and helping pull the training underwear up. He ignored Peter’s angry grumbling and continued talking, “So why are we putting on a pull-up right now, kiddo? It’s not night time yet, unless you want a nap.” Clint joke, sticking his tongue out and ruffling Peter’s fluffy hair.
“Nuh uh, no nap.” Peter pouted, his voice sounding really high and needy. As if hearing his tone, the boy shook his head back and forth several times. When the poor boy spoke again, his voice was closer to normal again. His face was bright red and his fingers snapped at the elastic waist band of his pull-up. “So, I’ve been uh doing some research.” Clint wanted to reach out and hug the boy, but was terrified of scaring Peter off and stays still while he continued talking. “About the whole age play thing and well there are a few things I want to um try, but I can tell you about that later… “ He stammered, trailing his words off at the end. “and well, there are um different ages people regress to and I think that I’m a toddler… maybe 2 or 3 or something and I just like the pull-ups ok and I thought that maybe if I think I’m a toddler that it wouldn’t be bad if I tried the pull-ups during the day.” Peter poked at the princess design, “this afternoon do you think we could spend some time with me being little, I just want to try it out if that’s ok.”
Clint can’t stand staying still with the boy being so uncomfortable anymore, so he reaches forward and pulls the boy into a soft hug, rubbing his fingers through the kid’s messy curls. “I love toddlers Peter and I think it’ll be fun to spend time with my very favorite toddler.” He tickled Peter’s side and felt intoxicated by the sound of the boy giggling.
“Alrighty then Peter,” Clint straightened the boy’s shirt and then pulled his pants up and over the bright pink training underwear. He then turned to look at the boy. “ Before we start playing, something quick. It’s totally ok if you have an accident, but if you feel like a big boy can you make sure to tell me if you have to go potty so I can help you, sweetheart?” He asked softly and Peter nodded quickly, his face bright red. Clint feels bad for a second, but he leaves it be because he wants Peter to have a successful day and accidents can be a setback and make toddlers weepy.
The boy looked so small standing in front of him, the waistband of his pull-up was visible above his pants and it crinkled when he shifted from foot to foot. His hair was fluffy and Peter’s thumb had snuck up to his mouth and was sitting snug between his lips. His head was tilted to the side and he looked so lost and small and confused.
And once again it was like his dad mode went into overdrive. Seeing Peter look so childlike and small made him want to just wrap him up into a giant blanket burrito and cuddle him and protect him. But it was about lunchtime and his dad instincts were yelling at him to feed the small boy standing in front of him.
“It’s time for lunch kid, do you wanna color or play with legos while you wait?” He asked, making sure his voice was sweet and the options were both easy and desirable.
“Ummmm,” Peter tilted his head to the side while he thought. “Color… please.” His words were muffled by the thumb still in his mouth.
Finding the princess themed coloring book in his box of kids things was pretty easy and Clint quickly had the boy set up at the counter with a coloring book. Clint didn’t have capacity to cook anything elaborate right now, so he instead slathered peanut butter and strawberry jelly on whole wheat bread with the crusts off and then cut up some banana slices and carrots. Every few seconds he would look up and make sure Peter was doing alright. It warmed his heart to see the boy happily curling, thumb still in his mouth and feet kicking back and forth.
Clint slide the plate across the counter towards the boy, only after placing a plate of the same food except with the crusts on in the spot next to Peter. Before sitting down, Clint poured a glass of apple juice for the boy.
Before placing it on the table he tapped his hand on the coloring book to get Peter’s attention. “We don’t have any toddler proof sippy cups right now, I can definitely order some for you in the future, but for now can you please be a big boy for me Peter. You need two hands on the glass so you don’t spill.”
“Ok…” Peter responded, taking his thumb out of his mouth and carefully wrapping his hands around the glass of juice.
Clint smiled at the boy, proud of him for being such a good listener. He can’t imagine letting go and making his needs known was easy for Peter and he’s proud and humbled that he is able to help the boy out.
Somehow, like a true toddler, Peter is covered in sticky peanut butter and jelly by the time he is finished eating. He has grapes smushed in his hair and a little puddle of apple juice is on the counter. But other than the slight mess, it was quite the successful meal. Peter had even eaten his carrot sticks like a good boy.
Now after Clint helped the boy wash off, they were sitting curled up on the couch watching Robin Hood. Peter’s head was rested on Clint’s collarbone and his thumb was once again firmly planted in his mouth. His eyes were dropping and it was clear he was ready for the nap he had denied needing only an hour earlier. Clint had been a dad long enough to recognize a tired baby and that certainly was what Peter was.
“Hey,” The man softly said, shifting the half asleep boy to lay on his back. The boy’s arm that was not in his mouth lay limply off the side of the couch. “I’m gonna touch you now, so don’t freak out. Just try to go to sleep, kiddo.” He was speaking, but was also aware that the boy was mostly asleep and probably not processing what he was saying at all.
Clint popped open the button on Peter’s pants, shimmying them down the boy’s skinny legs. He was originally planning on helping him get more comfy for his nap, sleeping in pants sucked, but he frowned when he saw the soggy pull-up. The man stuck two fingers into the tight leg band. As expected, the material was quite damp and Clint sighed softly, shaking his head at the boy.
He was hoping Peter would feel big enough to tell him if he had an accident, but really only so Peter would not develop a rash for sitting in a wet diaper for too long. Chances are that he wasn’t even fully asleep when he had the accident, but even if he had been awake it still wouldn’t have mattered much. He would never be mad at the boy for having an accident, especially when the boy was regressing to the age of a toddler. They were called accidents for a reason and it was seriously not cool to get mad at kids for things they could not control. Accidents were embarrassing enough for kids, without their parents getting mad. He had his rules for accidents, but really only for the sake of potty training quickly and his kids not getting bad rashes. His rules weren’t meant to humiliate, simply help kids learn when they weren’t old enough to understand what was for the best.
Changing the boy took only a few minutes altogether, including returning to his room to get the wipes and a new pull-up for the kid. He was terrified of waking the boy up by maneuvering his legs to be easier to change him, but Peter was clearly fast asleep and didn’t even stir when the damp pull-up was pulled down his legs and replaced with a warm, clean one.
When he was done cleaning and changing the boy, Clint looked down at the boy laying on the couch. His head was snuggled on the pillow and he was lazily sucking on his thumb even within sleep, it was adorable that the boy didn’t stop even when he wasn’t awake. His hair was ruffled, curls flying everywhere and his cheeks were flushed rosy and pink.
In sleep the boy looked more peaceful than he ever did while awake, even when the boy was in his little space. Before Peter had discovered his little space, he always looked mopey and sad. Tear tracks seemed to permanently be etched into his cheeks and his hands nervously shook, with anxiety and fear. Little Peter was a blessing, because he got to see the boy happy and smiling and giggling and adorably sleepy. The man cherished it with every ounce of his entire being, because Peter Parker deserved to be happy.
When Stark had texted him that he was on his way back, Clint had scooped the boy on the couch up into his arms and carried him towards his own room. Part of him wanted to leave the boy on the couch, rip the blanket off and let Tony find the boy napping at three in the afternoon in only his pull-up and shirt with his thumb in his mouth and Robin Hood playing softly on the large tv screen.
He wanted Stark to find the boy and discover that Peter was hurting in a way that he could tangibly help solve. He wanted it not only for Peter, but also selfishly for himself. He wanted a partner in crime, somebody that really cared about the kid to help out with bedtimes and making something to eat other than peanut butter and jelly and cut up fruit (though Stark was probably worse at cooking than even himself). He wanted someone to talk to about his new parenting ideas and just about how much he loves Peter and wants him to succeed.
But he knew he had made a promise to Peter and he would never do anything to break the trust between them. He loved the kid more than anything, so he would keep this a secret between the two of them until Peter told him otherwise. Hopefully that would be soon, but until then it was going to be him and the kid. Sure he wanted Stark to help, but he wanted to convey to the kid that he was enough for him. He didn’t need anyone else, to make them happy.
Clint ran his hand through Peter’s hair, before deciding to lay down next to the kid in his bed. Maybe he would take a quick nap, he thought before falling asleep within the first minute of his head being on the pillow.