Chapter Text
Peter
A tiny bead of sweat trickled uncomfortably down his spine as he got into the elevator. Sometimes his senses made him hyper-aware of these things like his skin had a mind of its own —could feel every lift of air and change in temperature. He’d pushed himself on the treadmill as fast as he figured was humanly possible but not enough to alert FRIDAY to any anomalies. He then finished off by doing as many tumbles across the mats as he could. Again, using variety but not too much power or skill. It was the sheer number he’d done that had managed to let him finally get a sweat on.
The murmur of low voices was evident as soon as he stepped off the elevator; stopping when FRIDAY announced his presence to whoever was in the kitchen. Tony probably. Peter’s throat was parched and as sweaty as he was, he needed water first before a shower. Whoever was in there would have to suffer his stench for a few moments.
Tony and Pepper were huddled together at the kitchen counter: strain evident from the tight lines around both of their mouths even from his position in the doorway. It didn’t lessen any when they looked up to see him.
“Oh, sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt…I can come back later.”
Tony’s chair screeched as he stood up abruptly. “No, stay…actually…there is something I need to talk to you about .”
Peter’s skin erupted in goosebumps. They flooded along his arms, down his neck and tingling along his spine. It wasn’t his spider-sense but the urge to leave hadn’t been so strong since he’d been in the car on his way here that first night. He took a half step back.
“I’m super sweaty…probably smelly…so I should totally shower…first… and maybe we can…talk…later...” Or never.
Tony’s eyes flicked to Pepper’s and there must have been an obvious answer in them as he straightened his body; one hand pulling the cuff of his shirt straight.
“We can suffer it. Please, sit.” When Peter didn’t move, Tony pressed again. ”It’s important.” Tony gestured to the stool at his right side. Pepper gave him a soft smile as she slipped gracefully out of her seat, coming back with water bottles for each of them by the time Peter’s butt had hit the seat.
“Do you want me to go?” Pepper said softly, running a hand over Tony’s lower back. He touched her waist, applying enough pressure to give an answer and she sat back in her previous seat, directly across from him.
Peter’s mind raced with possibilities. He’d spoken to Ms Shepherd that very lunchtime to check in on May and there was no change. He hadn’t even been out as Spider-man, the suit was with Ned, he had been so careful not to use his abilities in the Tower, or at least he thought he had, maybe he had flipped too high just now and FRIDAY—
“We have uncovered some information about the kidnapping.” Tony’s voice was steady but sharp, cutting through his jumbled thoughts.
The kidnapping. Right. That thing he’d been trying not to think too much about. Well, the top of a long list of things that he’d been actively avoiding.
Tony’s eyes were on him; the eyebrows pinched together tightly.
“You don’t have to—“ Tony seemed to stop himself; a centring breath taken before he continued. “I understand that you wanted to know…but if that isn’t the case…you don’t need to know the details.”
Natasha must have told him about their conversation; about asking her for information. Was she the reason that Tony was telling him now? Would he have said anything otherwise?
Tony had carried on. “I guess ultimately it doesn’t really matter…now.”
Peter’s frown was all-encompassing. Was he for real? “It doesn’t matter…?”
“Well, of course it…” Tony shifted in his seat. “…I just mean, the outcome is the same, knowing the details won’t change that. But you may find it upsetting…so it’s not necessary for you to know…not now, not ever if you don’t want to.”
The outcome was the same, but it might change how he felt. That was what Tony was getting at. But it didn’t matter. He needed to know; the tightening in his chest told him that more than anything. He couldn’t not know.
“I want to know. Everything.”
Tony’s face pulled into a sharp grimace. “I thought you might say that.”
The Manila folder that Tony pushed over to him seemed far too thin to contain the answers as to why he’d been living a different life for 12 years. Peter looked down at it but didn’t move to open it; he didn’t want to read – he wanted to hear the words. He looked up expectantly at Tony; who was watching him with a whole new level of weariness. There was a beat of silence between them; the only movement in the rhythm of their collective breathing and the tightening of Pepper’s hand in Tony’s.
“It was Mary Parker.”
The plainness of the sentence made it feel like being jabbed with the blunt end of a knife. Peter swallowed; his mouth so dry; nothing to do with his earlier physical exertion.
“Right.” Peter stared down at the folder again. He slid shaky fingers over to it, lifting the top. There was a page of printed grainy photos – he could easily tell it was his Mom’s form; she was carrying something, as he looked down the photos as she moved, a leg was hanging down from the blanket in her arms. A child’s leg; little socks and high tops.
Tony had moved a little closer now – his arm reaching out. “I can show you the video if you like but that’s you. You had these light-up sneakers, they go off in the video, light up soles with little dinosaurs on them.”
“Triceratops,” he whispered.
A little gasp escaped Pepper and Tony slumped back in the stool, his eyes wide, like Peter was an actual ghost this time. His voice was thin when he found it. “How did you…? Do you…?”
“I don’t remember…” Peter was quick to clarify that. “…at least I don’t think I do. More like it was a family story...how I always went on about these sneakers I had when I was little and how I wore them until they were falling off. Begged for new ones…”
Tony seemed content to let that sit; in that, he sat stock still other than his chest rising in increasing frequency. But not Pepper. She wiped at her face; a forced smile following. “You did insist on wearing them to bed every night for the first week that you got them.”
Peter looked back down at the photos; pushing back the wave of emotion that threatened to wash over him. He’d hoped they’d have found an adoption registered somewhere, something that would mean his parents were lied to, were victims too. But this possibility had lurked in the back of his mind since the police station. If he was expecting it on some level, why did it still hurt so much?
“And my D— and Richard?”
Tony sat forward. “We don’t have any evidence that he knew before she did it. They were separated at the time. But he came to visit about two months after you were taken. Chucked his job in suddenly a few days after. We spoke to a lady who lived in the apartment complex, and she remembers Mary…and you. Confirmed that they moved abruptly. Utilities records show that they moved to Chicago. Then Dallas, then Boston, no more than six months or so, then back to New York where they stayed until the accident.”
Peter’s chest was getting heavier. Like an elephant was slowly sitting down on him, bit by bit.
“But he must have known or suspected or something. Like, why she suddenly had a child, right? Adopting or fostering a child in California isn’t that quick?”
Tony nodded. “No, it isn’t.”
So Richard must have known, after the fact. Went along with what she’d wanted. Why would he do that? Why would she do it in the first place? He couldn’t track either of their heartbeats now as his own was just too loud in his ears.
“Why?” Peter’s voice croaked. “Do you know why she did it?”
Tony looked to Pepper for a long second. “Only speculation,” he replied, eyes on Peter again.
“Then speculate.” Peter’s words were almost a snap: cold and hard. The opposite to how he felt inside: like lava was flowing within him, ready to erupt out at any moment.
Peter could feel where the sweat had dried; cool air on it as his foot tapped against the floor so fast that he might fly off. Tony leant towards him, thick calloused fingers finding his forearm.
“Buddy, can you take a breath for me?”
The lava was making his breath shorten, his chest tight in a way that reminded him of the asthma attacks he’d battled so regularly for all those years.
“I’m fine,” Peter pushed through gritted teeth; not really doing anything for his case.
The fingers tightened fractionally, the pressure grounding. He did as he was asked; pulling a few shaky breaths in and out. He was going to anyway, after all. It wasn’t like he wasn’t going to breathe.
The warmth left his arm; Tony reached over and unscrewed the bottle of water before wordlessly handing it to him.
Peter downed half of it before setting it down on the table.
“Why?” he asked again. His voice didn’t come out as firm as he’d imagined but it seemed it was enough as Tony let out a sigh before he moved to flick a page over in the folder.
“The Parkers suffered through a horrendous series of losses -- miscarriage and stillbirths. The last of which happened just a few months before you were taken. That is our working theory of a motive.”
“That’s…that’s horrible,” Peter said as he thumbed through the pages – hospital reports, medical bills. “You think she was mentally…unwell?”
“There is evidence that she saw a shrink. After all those losses, it wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility. But that is purely—“
“—speculation,” Peter finished.
Peter paused as all the information flooded in. He thought back to the shows he’d watched with May. “You weren’t there when she…right? Do you think she knew who I was— who you were?”
Tony almost snorted at that. “If you are asking did I know the Parkers before – the answer is no. FRIDAY cross-checked every possible event I have been to – especially given the scientific field we were all a part of. But from what we can gather, no we never met, socially or otherwise. So, I wasn’t the target it seems. Not this time.” Tony’s jaw clicked; his hand squeezing Pepper’s first this time. She brought her other hand to cover his; the lighting bouncing off her pale pink nail varnish. His gaze had moved off to the middle distance for a moment but now it was back in Peter’s direction. “Seems it was a random snatching born of opportunity. My fault for choosing a Nanny and a bodyguard who were more interested in each other than--”
Tony cut himself off, his free hand coming up and pulling long and hard down his jaw. Maybe the fact that Peter was so attuned to his own guilt meant that he felt it coming off Tony in waves.
“You weren’t the one who vetted them,” Pepper all but whispered. She was sat straight as a pin; her eyes glassy. “Happy and I were the ones who interviewed them, recommended them.”
Tony’s gaze was sharp on her, but his words were a whisper. “Pep, you can’t still think that…not after all these years.”
“Sorry, I didn’t realise you had the monopoly on guilt,” she whispered back.
Peter watched them for a minute; both were so quick to soothe the other for something that objectively wasn’t either of their faults.
“Maybe it was my fault for being so cute.”
Both heads shot round to him. He tilted his head. Pepper looked about to bluster when Tony caught up to his meaning.
“Ok, we get it.” He let out a huff of breath. “No one here is at fault.”
Peter nodded sharply. The only people responsible were dead. Peter’s hands curled into tight fists. He wanted to grab them and shake them and find out exactly what happened. He didn’t want to speculate. He wanted to know. With a certainty. Because there were only a few things that he did know about Mary and Richard Parker. And this new information sat at a sharp juxtaposition to it. He didn’t know what to do with it. The lava still flowed within him and he wanted to get out of there before he burned anyone accidentally in its path. Peter straightened up, letting one leg slide off the side of the stool in readiness to leave.
“May I be excused?”
“I’d really rather you didn’t go right now, Bud. Being alone with this bombshell…probably not a good idea.” Tony’s hand twitched like he wanted to put it back on Peter’s arm. Maybe he wanted that too. He pulled his arms off the table and into his lap to stop the possibility.
“I wanted to know. Now I do.” He could feel it; shutters coming down, the numbness starting to spread.
Peter started to move off the chair and Tony did too as if he was bonded to Peter like a magnet.
“Peter, please.”
“I just want to be alone for a bit. I’ll come back out for dinner…Happy said something about Mexican.”
Tony nodded absently; his eyes still all but pleading.
Peter made it a few steps before he paused. He didn’t want to stay but there was something; an itch in him that needed to be scratched. Something that he needed to know.
He turned back. Tony still stood there, Pepper next to him now, pressed to one side.
“Ben and May…did they know?”
Tony shifted his weight. “Right now, we don’t have any evidence to suggest that they did.”
Peter’s shoulders dropped, his chest not quite so tight.
“Good.” He let out a breath; stuttered and short. “That’s…good.”
The relief was palpable. Tony and Pepper were still looking at him: he wasn’t sure he knew what their expressions meant. He’d have thought Tony would feel relieved to know the truth, but he looked closer to devastated. There was something in him, a small kernel, that wanted it to make it easier for him.
“Richard and Mary…I know it doesn’t change anything – what they did was so…sorry, but so fucked up...” He paused but neither adult seemed to care about his language; both just staring intently at him. “…but I don’t remember them much, to be honest. I was so little when they…they weren’t really my parents.”
It didn’t seem to soothe Tony; his forehead cracked into a deeper groove than Peter had thought physically possible. “You don’t have to say that…deny them…for me.”
“I’m not? I just mean that Ben and May were really my parents. For all intents and purposes —.”
The ache of missing them was more real than anything Peter had ever felt in his life, and it burned in his chest right now. The heat making his throat dry again. It was probably the most he had talked to them in one go.
“But anyway, what I do remember of Richard and Mary was that they treated me well, cared for me…they…they loved me. I don’t know if you want to hear that, or it makes it worse…but yeah…”
Peter risked a look at them. Pepper had buried her face in Tony’s shoulder but Tony was staring at him still; whiskey coloured eyes pinning him. “I’m glad. Glad that they showed you that. You deserve...all the love.”
Peter gave him a half-smile, he wasn’t sure if that was true. Tony didn’t know yet what happened to the people that Peter loved. Well, maybe he did; he was one of the first casualties. Well, not even the very first, but he couldn’t think of her, not today. That would tip him over the edge. He cleared his throat before he dipped a thumb over his shoulder.
“So, shower…and then enchiladas and dirty fries?”
Tony’s swallow was visible from there. “Clean up to get dirty. Makes perfect sense.” The smile that he added at the end looked as fake as they come but Peter took it.
Peter nodded before disappearing out the door. His body took him on autopilot to his room. He stripped his sweaty clothes off and turned the shower on. Out of habit, he let it run for a few minutes to get hot. Steam quickly curled like clouds into the room. Of course, he didn’t need to wait, not here. This wasn’t like his old home or any of the homes he’d lived in this past year. New home, new life, new him.
He was breathing hard before he even stepped under the water. He turned the heat up higher. Maybe the pain of near scalding water would stop him thinking, would stop the thoughts that trampled through his brain at a mile a minute.
How could she? How could they? They were his parents, meant to love him. Unconditionally. They had been kind, taught him things, sung songs to him, held him when he was sad. But they were also people who would rip a family apart so they could have it for themselves. Steal a child and pass it off as their own. Selfish, more than that, evil maybe.
His breaths were ragged now: no amount of arm holding would reduce them. He picked up the shower gel; too hard evidently, crushing the flimsy plastic, shooting gel everywhere.
“Fuck!”
He threw the mangled plastic into the corner; clenching and unclenching his fists and trying to breathe. He knocked the shower off, clambered out of the cubicle, barely washed. He managed to pull a towel around him before he slumped onto the bath mat; his body shaking. The thoughts wouldn’t stop; the tightness in his chest wouldn’t abate.
They might have been evil, but they’d loved him. What did that say about him?
Tony
Peter’s mop of brown hair moved out of sight and his heart still trampled a mile a minute.
Pepper pressed deeper into his side; her arms tight around him and he could feel her holding back from crying. He pulled back enough to see her; eyes red-rimmed but no tears had fallen. Tony looked back to the now empty space his son had inhabited.
“That went well. Actually, did that go well? I…”
He’d expected Peter to be more upset; to cry even but other than that brief moment where Tony could see his breath shorten, there had been little outward emotion.
“I…I’m not sure it did.” Pepper moved away from him, reaching for a tissue from the box on the counter. “He’s too…contained.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
Even Pepper didn’t seem all that sure, judging by the deep downward pull of her lips. “Possibly, if that means that he is keeping it bottled up.”
The tentative build of trust between them was one thing. But this -- this deep wound -- maybe he didn’t trust them enough to help with that. And he wanted to help, so badly that it made his skin twitch. Would Peter be crying in his room again, just like that first night?
“FRIDAY, what are Peter’ vitals?”
“Peter’s heart rate is elevated and he is showing signs of distress.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Tony was already walking towards the door. He wouldn’t let him deal with all this alone.
“Peter asked me not to and his vitals were within acceptable parameters.”
Tony stopped. It took every ounce of self-control, but he did. Peter wanted space; he should let him have it. It was still only ten days since they had met; he had no reasonable expectation to be trusted with his emotions, as much as he wished Peter would. His chest ached with the need to just pull him into a hug. He’d have to wait.
---
And he did wait.
He sat patiently as they ate but couldn't help keeping his eyes locked on Peter. He’d come back out for dinner as promised; the only visible sign of their conversation were the slightly red-rimmed eyes he sported.
Any upset hadn’t stopped his appetite, finishing off all his food and the rest of Pepper’s once she was finished. But he was back to mostly one-word answers and polite refrains. God, hopefully this wouldn’t be a regression.
Steve had popped in and Tony talked him into staying for dessert and one of his ‘off-the-list movies’, judging that Peter would stay. He was right. Nat had snuck in at one point; curling up on the floor next to Steve’s feet; resting against his legs.
“I’m going to head to bed,” Peter said, not making eye contact with anyone for more than a few seconds as he lifted a hand in a wave.
Everyone chorused ‘goodnights’ to him as he disappeared off. Tony pushed a hand through his hair once he’d retreated. Should he go to him? Talk to him about it again? Fuck, he was so tired. Tired of trying to figure out what the right thing to do was. Mastering thermonuclear astrophysics in one night was significantly easier.
“So you told him then?”
Tony’s eyes snapped to Nat; insightful as ever.
“Yeah,” he breathed out. He wasn’t entirely sure it had been the right thing to do now. Pepper had pushed him on it, he shouldn’t have listened. Not when he didn't know the cost; couldn’t control all the variables.
Steve shifted forward on his seat, elbows on his knees as he leant towards Tony. “How did he take it?”
Tony floundered for the right word.
“Stoically,” Pepper said from his left.
“Maybe too stoically,” he murmured.
Steve’s frown more than made up for Natasha’s continued straight face.
Tony sat back with a sigh; two fingers massaging a deep-seated crick lodged in the back of his neck.
“Tried to reassure me at the end that despite what they did, that they treated him well, that they loved him.”
“Defending them?”
“Not quite…no...I think that was more to make us feel better.” Tony considered that aloud. “He seemed most relieved that the other Parkers weren’t involved.”
“That we know of…” Nat added and Tony tilted his head in agreement. Peter had made it obvious that would have been a lot worse for him. Small mercies for that.
“That would make sense,” Steve said, leaning back on a hand now. “They raised him; most of his memories would be of them. He probably doesn’t remember much before Mary and Richard died.”
Tony’s eye twitched.
“Sorry…” Steve said, wincing in return as he realised the implication.
“It’s ok…it’s the truth.”
Truth hurts. Wasn’t that the theme of the week.
Bucky
Falling asleep early hadn’t been the best plan if it meant waking up with the birds, but at least he hadn’t been woken by a nightmare this time. He’d fallen asleep reading; he was catching up on the works of Tolkien. He had read the Hobbit back in the 1930s; he and Steve had shared what quickly became a dog-eared copy. Steve had been almost giddy when he had handed over a large volume to him; “The Lord of the Rings” printed across the front.
It was a long-ass sequel, that was for sure. He was three-quarters of the way through the first book – there was still so much to go. Not that he wasn’t enjoying it – he was – he was just so unused to reading for pleasure, that at times it felt wrong. Same with watching TV or a film. If it was with someone else, it didn’t bother him, but alone, it seemed almost indulgent. An itch at the back of his mind; like he should be preparing for something else, training, scouting a position. Would he ever get over that?
Vigilance was another throwback of his past; more so when he’d been on the run for those two years. But it was still hanging around; marked right now by him noticing that the door to the laundry was ajar when it hadn’t previously been.
The sound of the dryer reaching top speed loudened as he pushed the door open. Of all the things he might have imagined - Hydra assassins sent after him to rats eating the dryer sheets - he hadn’t expected Peter.
He sat in the corner of the room; back to the wall. His knees were pulled up to his chest, PJ bottoms hanging loose and a threadbare t-shirt revealing thin but muscled arms that rested atop his knees. The lights were on low but it was enough for Bucky to make out a faint tremor running through Peter’s body.
Bucky lightly tapped the doorframe then regretted it as Peter all but jumped out of his skin, launching to his feet in what resembled all too much a deeply ingrained habit. Bucky’s teeth ground against each other. Maybe he should remind Steve about taking that trip to Queens and displaying some Brooklyn hospitality.
Almost as soon as Peter seemed to recognise him, his body unwound. “Oh, hey, hey Mr Barnes. Sorry, I was in my own world there.”
“No problem, didn’t mean to startle you. I saw the door open – wasn’t sure who was taking up some past midnight chores.”
Peter returned him a gentle, warm smile but there was a hint of uncertainty there. “FRIDAY said it was ok to use the laundry room down here.”
“You don’t put it down the chute like everyone else?”
There was a laundry service in house by the Tower maintenance and cleaning team. Steve and Natasha always used it but Bucky didn’t like to; felt like something else he was taking wrongly off Stark when he was already living rent and bills free in his Tower. He was normally the only one who used the laundry room here.
Peter shrugged. “Laundry was my job…at home…I don’t mind it.”
The dryer beeped then and Peter turned to it; grabbing a large handful of clothes and putting them up on the counter. A few socks fell out of the bundle and Bucky scooped them up.
“Want a hand folding?”
“Sure.”
Bucky picked up a pair of worn jeans and folded them in half.
“What have you been up to today – yesterday, whatever?” Bucky asked conversationally.
“Usual school stuff - got an end of unit test coming up so had to do some cramming for that. Then I did a bit of a workout down in the gym before…dinner. Then Captain Rogers and Ms Romanoff came up to watch a movie.” Peter eyed him from the side. “You haven’t joined us for dinner since I’ve been here.”
There was a question in that innocent statement and Bucky managed to stop himself from stilling; moving to pick up a t-shirt next.
“I’m not good in big groups.”
Not a lie, but a misdirection. Letting Peter think it was something to do with his messed up past. Which in a way it was – just not in the way that he was implying.
Sorry kid I can’t come to dinner as your Dad hates me since I killed your grandparents.
“Well, if you ever change your mind.” Peter haphazardly folded another top and dropped it into his basket.
“What did you watch?”
“Huh? Oh ‘Back to the Future’ – classic.”
Bucky raised an eyebrow at him.
Peter’s jumped up in return. “Of course you haven’t seen it either. It’s a classic. You need it in your life, Mr Barnes. Trust me.”
Bucky couldn’t help but smirk at that.
“Are you doing anything now? We could totally watch it. I think there is some popcorn left upstairs.” The kid suddenly seemed to remember that he was shy. “I mean, sorry, if you want to.”
“Sure. But you just watched it a few hours ago – you surely don't want to watch it again?”
“Are you kidding me? It’s one of my favourite old movies.” Peter gesticulated with his hands. “I know all the words. It’s a total classic.”
Bucky’s lip twitched. “So you keep saying.”
Peter shrugged, a cheeky grin on his face. “I wouldn’t lie to you, Mr Barnes.”
Bucky’s heart contracted. God, this kid was getting under his skin.
“Go get it set up, Queens.”
—-
The familiar pad of Steve’s feet drew him from his page – he’d just got to the part where Frodo arrived in the forest of the Elves. Steve stopped in the doorway, his eyes darting from the empty cereal bowls, to a sleeping Peter before finally settling on where he was sitting at the other end of the couch. Bucky put a finger to his lips as he smoothly moved from his seat and followed Steve out into the kitchen, pleased his movements didn’t wake the kid up. He’d crashed about 40 minutes into the film. Bucky had chucked a blanket on him before he watched the rest. The kid was right, it was pretty good.
“What happened?” Steve said as Bucky ambled to the fridge to get a bottle of juice out.
“The kid was in the laundry room in the middle of the night. Talked me into watching a movie with him and then promptly passed out.”
“Awake in the night again?” Steve’s worried eyes darted to the doorway and back again. If the odd times hadn’t been an indication of nightmares, then the tremors in his body had been a sure sign to Bucky.
Bucky nodded. “Seemed pretty shaken up.”
“Did he say anything?”
Something about the way Steve said that made him think he was missing something.
“Not unless you count talking about laundry and what he considers old movies. Did something happen yesterday?”
Bucky hoped he wasn’t missing anything, that the kid had more to contend with.
“Tony told him what he’d uncovered about the kidnapping.”
Ah shit. The last thing Bucky had heard from Steve was that Stark was considering not telling him at all. Which, for the record, he totally understood. But Peter wasn’t a small child. For fifteen, he was pretty mature. Keeping secrets from him was probably unwise if Stark wanted to build trust with him.
“Christ. No, he definitely did not bring that up. That’s a lot to take.”
“Yeah. Tony said he was pretty stoic about it. But…”
But indeed. There must be all kinds of complicated feelings going on for him. No wonder his sleep was disturbed.
“Are you going to tell Stark?” Bucky looked back at Steve whose face was still full of a frown. “About him not sleeping?”
Steve considered this. “I dunno. He’s ended up down here again so maybe he doesn’t want Tony to know. He’s been pretty…protective so far.”
Bucky suppressed a snort. That was the understatement of the year. No wonder Peter hadn’t told Tony about his nightmares. He probably didn’t want to do anything that might make Tony more focused on him.
Steve straightened up; his mind seemingly made up. “Let me know if it happens again and I will.”
Bucky nodded in return, before going over to the kettle and flicking the switch.
“Coffee?”
“Yes please,” came the unexpected response from the doorway. A fluffed-up Peter stood there, hair sticking up in a ridiculous amount of different directions.
“Nice hairstyle,” Bucky jibed. Steve’s deep chuckle resonated in the room as Peter tried to tame it unsuccessfully.
“I give up,” Peter said with a sigh as he slumped against the counter. “I don’t know why I bother; I just need a haircut.”
“Yeah, you don’t want to end up looking like Bucky.”
“Hey! You said you liked my hair.”
Steve grinned his biggest shit-eating grin. “I also said I liked your Ma’s cooking...”
Bucky vaulted over the counter, tackling Steve to the floor. They rolled around, Steve’s laughter reverberated through his chest as he managed to pin his arms.
“Take it back, Rogers.” Steve wriggled and started to get loose - probably would’ve slipped out of his grasp already if he wasn’t laughing so hard. Bucky re-tightened his grip. “Yield.”
“Never, ha, ah...never, Barnes!” Steve twisted more in his grip, heels digging into Bucky’s calves to get purchase. Bucky readjusted - nope, not happening.
“Yield!” Bucky barked at him again; his cheeks hurting with the smile stretching them.
“Her soup tasted like socks!”
Steve tried to buck him off, tried to wriggle out but Bucky had his arms well pinned. God Bless Vibranium. Still, he was Steve Rogers, so as they rolled around he started to inch free. He was going to get away.
Bucky looked over at Peter who was almost doubled over in laughter, face bright red watching their goofing around with an expression of glee.
“Peter quick, pin his legs.”
Peter hesitated, the glee suddenly gone and a flash of something unreadable in his eyes. Bucky’s stomach flipped. Shit, he’d forgotten about Peter’s past - ‘How are you generally with touch?’- maybe he -
But it was only a second of hesitancy; Peter ran and jumped straight in, lying his body weight over Steve’s legs.
“Cheating!”
“No rules in love and war, punk.” Bucky doubled down on his efforts, knowing Steve wouldn’t try too hard and accidentally hurt Peter.
Suddenly Steve let out a high-pitched yelp. “Not my feet, not my feet!”
Bucky craned his head to see Peter had started tickling Steve’s bare feet.
“I yield, I yield! Foul play!” Steve gasped; his body collapsing in relief when they both stopped.
“I go away for a few days and it’s like a college dorm sitcom in here.” All three sets of eyes moved to the voice; Natasha smirking at them from the doorway. “FRIDAY, please save a copy of the video from the last five minutes to my personal server.”
“Yes, Miss Romanoff.”
Peter quickly clambered up, a dusting of pink in his cheeks. Bucky followed suit, pulling Steve up by his arm too.
“Hey Peter,” Natasha’s voice softened ever so slightly. “How about I make us some Russian tea and we catch up?”
Peter regarded her for half a second, before shifting his feet. “It’s ok, Miss Natasha. He told me about…everything, I think.”
There was a tilt of Natasha’s head. “Well, if you have any questions, let me know.”
“I don’t think I do. I mean...” Peter gave a small shrug. “...it is what it is.”
So that’s what they meant by taking it stoically. The lack of emotion in Peter’s voice was perhaps even more evidence of the turmoil beneath.
“I better get ready for school anyway. Algebra test today.” He forced a smile onto his face before coming back over towards where Bucky and Steve were; picking up his basket of clean washing from the countertop. “Thanks for helping me fold. Sorry for bothering you again, Mr Barnes.”
“You’re no bother.” Bucky was surprised when the words flew out of his mouth but more so when he realised they were true. The kid was good company. “Besides, I always need someone on my side taking Steve down.”
Peter gave him a shy smile before retreating towards the elevators.
Natasha’s eyes were instantly boring a hole into his back, as he turned to go back to put the kettle back on.
“Spit it out, Romanoff.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Exactly,” Bucky said as he turned around, leaning against the counter as he looked at her. She looked back expectantly. He sighed and offered up an explanation. “He just keeps turning up. I’m not encouraging it, believe me.”
“But you’re not being unwelcoming…I’ve seen you turn milk sour with your glare.”
He knew Stark wouldn’t like it; would probably view it with suspicion but what was he supposed to do? Ignore the kid? Be mean?
“Haha. Kid’s been through hell. Not even I would be a dick to him.”
“Uh-huh.” Nat didn’t sound all that convinced but continued to get herself some breakfast.
Bucky rolled his eyes as soon as her back was turned. All of these meetings, just coincidences. He was just doing the kind thing, that was all.