{edited 5/7/23}

in all fairness, it really was an accident.

peter truly hadn't meant to web clint to the wall for over three hours. in the teen's defense, he had been trudging through an awful sensory overload, and clint had had the bright idea to jump out from behind a corner to scare him, and, well... the rest is history. and peter really did try to help the archer down from the synthetic web, but his strategic design had quickly hindered that plan.

so, as peter walked away, hands over his eyes and fingers attempting to massage the ache bouncing between his temples away, clint had called war, and the teen couldn't help the smile that spread across his lips.

oh, it was so on.

.....

"ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod."

peter shivered as the icy water ran down his neck and shoulders. his teeth chattered as he tried in vain to clear the never-ending stream of water from his eyes, and he glanced around the hall, eyes narrowing at the vent overhead. now, he wasn't a rocket scientist, but the dripping water splurging from the metal gaps definitely wasn't a coincidence.

"clint!" he whined, flexing his fingers as another chill ran down his spine. "seriously?"

a muffled chuckle bounced around the room. "you're face!" more laughter followed, and a suspicious thud from above sounded out. "oh god that was amazing." followed by some shuffling, clint's reddened face appeared from behind the metal grate. "i told you this was war, spiderkid. beat that!"

as footsteps scuddled away above, peter shook his head, his own chuckle making it past his lips; the situation was seriously absurd. sighing, he took a couple of steps before stopping, one foot up in the air and arms out from his sides. wet socks were the tenth circle of hell.

"peter? what the hell?"

said teen turned at the voice, offering a bright smile to his adoptive father. "hey, dad," he greeted, drawing out the endings of his words. "crazy seeing you here."

tony gawked at his son. "peter, i... i don't even know what to say." he paused for a moment. "care to explain yourself?"

"well," peter started, putting his foot down and wincing at the splosh of his socks. "war has been declared." at tony's raised eyebrow, his grin turned sheepish. "okay, so basically, remember how i had a sensory overload this morning? well, clint tried to scare me, and i maybe, sorta, kind of accidentally webbed him to the wall?"

"...and?"

"and, well, he got me back, i guess."

tony sighed, bringing a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "every day god tests me," he said under his breath. "go get cleaned up, i'll... figure this out."

peter flashed his father a wide grin. "thanks, dad."

"yeah, yeah. FRIDAY, call housekeeping, please."

.....

"need any sunscreen?"

clint grunted, burying his face in his arms. "go 'head," he mumbled. he adjusted his position, rolling his shoulders back before relaxing them. "th'nks."

peter hummed in reply, grabbing the bottle of sunscreen from the small table next to the lounger. loudly popping the cap, he squeezed a dollop of the stuff onto his fingers. with careful precision, he began lathering the sunscreen onto the archer's back.

after a while, the teenager sat back and admired his handywork. "alrighty, clint, i think you're good." he gave the man a slight pat on the shoulder. "see you inside?"

"yeah, what'ver, kid."

a couple of hours later clint was making his way through the tower, his beach towel balled up in his hands. he entered the common room and began heading for the elevator, however, snickers stopped him in his tracks.

"what's so funny?" he asked, turning around.

wanda's lip wobbled as she tried to hold in a laugh. "nothing- nothing at all," she forced out. "i just... i really appreciate the people in this tower, is all."

"yeah, totally," sam agreed, nodding his head. "really doing the lord's work, right?"

clint narrowed his eyes. "what's going on?" he demanded. "guys, what's so funny? is there something on my face?"

"your face? no, man," scott replied. "you're good man, so, so good. you shouldn't wear a shirt more often! are you working on your abs?"

clint stared at scott, mouth slightly agape. he was about to press further, but natasha cut him off by patting his side, making him jump.

"at least he made you above average."

clint connected two and two pretty quickly.

"oh, you son of a bi-"

.....

peter sprawled out on his bed, shoving another chip into his mouth. with his chemistry book balancing on his abdomen, he carefully reached for his notebook on his nightstand, and just as his fingers brushed against the edge of the papers, a voice made him jump.

"peter!"

clint's head popped down from the ceiling vent, and peter scrambled away, fearful of being doused once more. however, instead of dangling a bucket over the teen's head, clint dropped down from the vents, raising his hands in the air.

"look, two things: one, screw you for painting a dick on my back. and two, i know that we aren't on buddy-buddy terms right now, but i need your help to prank the team."

peter hesitated. "truce, then?"

"yes, truce," clint agreed, nodding his head. "do you have any ideas?"

two hours, an absurd amount of flour, and a couple of carolina reapers later, peter stood back, wiping his hands on his apron.

"peter, this is great," clint laughed, dusting his own hands off. he pushed the plate onto the middle of the island. "no one will suspect a thing!"

peter laughed. "okay, now all we have to do is-"

"ooh, cookies?"

peter turned, eyes wide as natasha plucked a cookie from the plate and took a bite. everything went still as she chewed, and it felt like hours had passed in the couple of seconds it took for the peppers to kick in.

"your heads are going on my wall."