Chapter Text
Peter ran harder, feet slapping against the rooftop as he pushed himself as fast as he could. He’d seen the large mushroom-cloud of green smoke at the same time as the rest of his class and he’d ducked out of physics as his peers rushed towards the windows. Peter already had his bag with him as he rushed to the roof, spilling out of the metal maintenance door and immediately pulling off his clothes.
Getting into his suit was much easier now, and he tapped the spider emblem the moment he got his arms all the way in. Not wasting a moment, he began running as he pulled his mask down, not bothering to secure his clothes down to the roof, confident that Ned would know where he went and get them for him like he’d done countless times before. His next step became a leap as he threw himself off another building, free-falling through the air before he flexed his wrist, pushing down with his two middle fingers to fire a stream of webbing into the air.
It caught the side of a building and he grabbed hold, pulling his legs under him as he swung up through the air. Peter let out a breathless peal of laughter as buildings rushed by him in a blur, moving so fast it was impossible to make out a single detail. He was free, flying through the air the way without anything holding him down, and he was giddy with how it felt. Swinging in a low arch he launched himself upwards, soaring up and over another building as the cloud of smoke grew larger the closer he got to where the explosion must have happened.
“Hello, Peter,” Karen's voice rang through his ears, the display of his mask lighting up with different information.
There were statistics on the weather, his web-slinging, the most practical route to get to where he needed to be. He didn’t give the display much mind, focusing instead of zipping through the city as a smile curled up his lips and Karen’s familiar, friendly voice—it didn't matter what Tony said; he and Karen were totally best friends .
“Karen! What is that?” Peter asked, swinging around a building and propelling himself upwards, flying through the air and over the surrounding buildings. He focused on the still-growing cloud of green smoke as Karen came alive and plotted out the easiest route for him to take.
“It appears that Dr. Doom has unleashed a legion of tiny robots in Times Square,” Karen told him calmly, her voice as even as always. “The Avengers have already arrived on the scene and are working at evacuating the area while controlling the robot threat.”
“Oh cool,” Peter hummed as he followed the route Karen mapped out, swinging between buildings with ease. Damn, the explosion site was way further than he’d thought.
Peter had only seen all the Avengers fighting together once, that one time Tony had asked him for help fighting Captain America and half of the Avengers in Germany. And even then, they weren’t fighting together (and, really, Peter still wasn't totally sure what exactly had gone down). They’d only started fighting as a team together a little over a year ago and Peter hadn’t helped them with anything until now.
He didn’t really like the idea of them all being back in Tony’s life, but... he couldn’t really say anything about it. Not to Tony, anyway. ‘Cause sure, of course he knew that it had something to do with the Accords and that was why they were fighting in Germany, but Tony had seemed so upset on the plane ride back to New York—even if he tried really hard to hide it—that Peter still thought that more than what the press talked about had happened.
Peter wasn't going to ask, that was for sure, but he wondered. Especially now that they were all working together again and living out of the Tower like they had before everything went to shit, when Peter had to step in and help Tony fight them all, what had really happened over those few months? It wasn't his place, though, so he wasn’t going to ask.
But he was going to keep showing up whenever Tony needed him and obviously didn’t want to call any of the others to help him, and he was going to keep asking Tony if he was okay so he’d know that someone really cared about him, and he was going to keep being there, just so Tony would always know that he had someone in his corner.
“You will find an excellent vantage point up on your left,” Karen told him, his HUD display lighting up with a semi-transparent arrow pointing to the edge of a high building.
Throwing out his arm, Peter shot a web. His shoulder protested in a bright burst of pain as he was yanked roughly to the side while his trajectory changed abruptly. He groaned even as he let the webbing go, falling through the air as his arms wind-milled about him. The rooftop raced towards him and Peter hit the ground moving too quickly. He dropped himself to the ground, rolling over on his shoulder before sticking his palm to the roof to bring himself to a stop. His body kept going with the momentum he had built from his free-fall and his legs continued to move and arched over him before slamming into the rooftop.
“Excellent stop, Peter,” Karen complimented even as Peter groaned loudly in pain. He told himself that he was just imagining the sarcastic tilt to her voice, but damn him if it wasn't really there.
“Thanks,” he croaked, taking a moment to catch his breath before he stood again, arching his back in a long stretch and rubbing at the sorest part. Shit, that had been just a little too rough.
Walking slowly to the edge of the building, Peter rolled out his shoulders slowly, feeling his soreness in his skin fade away as his healing kicked in. Once at the edge, he crouched low enough to peer out over the street that the large pillar of smoke was coming from. There was a long truck lying on its side, its front crashed into a building with rubble littering the street around it. A ridiculous amount of green smoke was billowing up from the wreckage which had formed the large mushroom-cloud he’d seen from his classroom, all of it rising from where the engine must have been.
Peter figured that was what Doom had used to transport the bots, considering there were still a number of weirdly shaped robots spilling out from the large, roughly carved-out hole in the truck’s side.
Neither he nor Karen's scanners could see Doom anywhere. Which really wasn’t that much a surprise. Seeing as how Doom almost always sent out his bots first and only making a dramatic entrance late into the battle once his 'creations' had been dealt with by whatever subset of the Avengers were dealing with him that day. He usually bothered the Fantastic Four, but on the off chance he was in Avengers territory he usually didn’t require the whole team.
Considering how many civilians Peter could still see running about and the hordes of robots chasing after them, it made sense that they were all here. Below him, most of the Avengers were mid-battle, fighting robots of varying sizes. Peter watched with wide-eyes as two of the robots joined together to double in size before they were struck by an arrow that blinked twice before exploding.
Shit.
Peter reared back, not realizing that his mask had zoomed in on the robot he’d been watching until he was blinking his eyes to clear the bright spots dancing across his vision caused by the exploding arrow. He widened his eyes to zoom back out, murmuring “lock zoom” under his breath. Well, at least that explained the varying sizes of robots.
“It appears as though there is a civilian in danger,” Karen announced, her robotic voice too calm to be delivering such news.
“What! Where?” Peter asked frantically, head whipping from side to side as he tried to find what Karen was talking about.
“The Hulk doesn't seem to be watching for civilians, and if he continues along his current path, I’ve calculated a ninety-eight-percent probability that he will run into a woman hiding behind a food cart.”
“What? Where is he—oh shit, okay!” Peter exclaimed, his mask showing him a heat signature that looked like someone crouched down and hiding behind an abandoned hot dog cart.
Focusing back on Hulk, Peter watched as the largest Avenger smashed through a series of robots that were clambering around his feet and trying to climb up his legs. He wasn't paying attention to where he was going, blindly swinging out his arms as he fought to get the bots off him. Even without Karen highlighting his current path in a soft yellow marker, Peter could see that if he kept going the way he was he would undoubtedly run into the person hiding.
Shit. Okay, that was fine. Peter took a deep breath and gave himself a single moment to freak out before he was off, springing backwards and then racing forward to jump off the roof and dive towards the Hulk. He caught himself on a web at the last minute to curb his free-fall. As soon as he hit the ground he took off running, jumping over a car and then sliding under Captain America's shield as the hairs along his neck stood on end. His head felt like it was going to spin off, his instincts pinging left and right as the fight went on around him and he manoeuvred through danger.
Jumping over another car, Peter spun in the air and landed lightly on his feet beside a hot dog cart before immediately springing back to his full height and planting his feet, locking his knees tightly in front of the lady screaming for her life as she sobbed incoherently. Hulk was still swinging his arms around blindly, punching through the air without any discretion.
Peter took a deep breath. Hulk roared loudly and wound his arm back before swinging it forward in a long, racing arc directly at Peter’s body. Without a single thought of himself, his mind only on the woman whose life was in danger, Peter caught Hulk's fist squarely in his hands and ignored the concussive force of it travelling down his palms and throughout his entire body. He groaned under his breath as his knees shook, nearly giving out, and he almost cried out at the pain in his shoulders.
The ear-piercing scream of the lady behind him was easy to tune out as he gritted his teeth and focused his senses on the creature in front of him. Hulk clearly hadn't been expecting someone to catch his fist, and he blinked down at Peter as his mouth dropped open while he panted for air. His whole body was still angled towards Peter and towering over him. His eyes—which Peter noticed for the first time were shot through his lines of gold—stayed locked on where Peter was essentially cradling his fist in his hands.
Peter stumbled back, dropping Hulk's hand as he fought to keep himself from completely falling over. That would definitely not be cool, so Peter breathed through the nearly overwhelming pain radiating from his entire body. The green limb swung limply back towards Hulk and settled at his side as if it was just hanging off his body. The—Peter wasn't even sure what to call him, not really; both monster and creature sounded too negative even in his own mind—Hulk was still staring at him, and he looked almost... awed. It was pretty easy to figure out why.
After all, Peter knew he was small. Still, he was all tightly packed, lean muscle that had developed during years of web-swinging and villain-fighting, and that wasn’t even taking into account the super-strength. Honestly, he was pretty used to being underestimated due to his size, so it really wasn’t that much of a surprise that Hulk was staring at him in what seemed to be complete confusion.
Hulk let out a questioning noise, curling his body forward as he stared intently at Peter.
Peter tried for a smile and then said, “Hey there big green. Watch out for civilians, alright?” He did his best to keep his voice as even as possible while his whole body was still throbbing in pain. Everything hurt. Peter could feel the way his fingers had fractured under the force of Hulk's punch and his grimace was hidden by his mask as the bones slowly knit back together.
“Hulk not smash?” he asked, his mouth closing and twisting down into a frown. It was kind of... cute, actually, with the way his eyebrows were pulled low over his eyes in what was pretty obvious confusion.
Peter took a deep breath and then followed it with another, doing his best to calm his still-racing heart and stop the adrenaline pumping through his veins. “You can smash as much as you want, big guy, but only smash the robots!”
“Hulk smash bots!” he roared, and the obvious glee in his voice made Peter smile behind his mask despite how he still felt. God, could his healing not work just a little bit faster?
“ Good job, buddy!” Peter called, taking a step backwards to rejoin the fight and then changing his mind when his knees protested. “Hey, can you give me a lift?”
Hulk tilted his head to the side, looking for all the world like a confused puppy, which was definitely adorable. “Lift?”
“Yep!” Peter called. His left arm twitched at his side and he raised it without a conscious thought, the web he fired catching an advancing robot on the 'head'. He yanked down, smashing the bot into the street hard enough that its head cracked open. Perfect. “Karen, switch to bullet-webs for now,” Peter said under his breath, and then louder as he pointed across the street, “Can you throw me onto that roof?”
Hulk was quiet for a moment before letting out a deep “okay” that was more rumble than word. Peter smiled, though he knew it couldn't be seen through his mask. Hulk crouched even closer, shooting Peter’s heartbeat skyrocketing despite himself. Still, he stepped onto the cradle of Hulk's hand when he held it out flat down near the ground, clearly intending for Peter to step into it.
It was easy to steady himself when he could stick to the guy’s skin. He crouched down even as he took deep, even breaths that barely did anything to calm his racing heart but still gave him something to focus on. Once Peter was steadied he gave Hulk a thumbs up, and the big guy swung his arm up and over his head. Peter jumped, using the momentum from Hulk’s lift to launch himself through the air. He somersaulted mid-way, urging himself forward as he approached the rooftop of the building he was aiming for.
His foot just hit the edge of the building and he leaned forward, using his momentum to carry him over the raised edge before sinking to the ground. He took another deep breath, desperately trying to get his heart rate under control and calm the uneasy fluttering of his stomach. Panic laced his thoughts, moving lower to grip him tightly around his chest even as he laid out on the roof’s floor and spread out his limbs under the bright sun and open air.
He was fine. H-he was fine. Peter looked up at the sky and it helped to remind him that he wasn't stuck, that he wasn't being weighed down, that he could move and he could breathe and he—he was okay. Nothing was crushing him under an indescribable force. His bones weren’t being broken faster than they could heal. He was fine.
“Peter, your heart rate is elevated,” Karen told him urgently, and Peter let out a broken laugh that cut through his throat, sitting up so he could hang his head down between his knees and keep breathing deeply.
It only took him a few more minutes before his deep breaths actually felt like they were filling his chest and that air was reaching his lungs. On his next inhale he breathed in until his chest burned and then let it out slowly.
When he finally stood, he rose on shaking feet and weak knees, but he still stood.
“Your fingers are still healing and I would advise against further combat,” Karen told him once he was upright, and not for the first time Peter was sure that he heard emotion in her voice—concern, this time—though he shook his head.
“I'm okay,” he muttered under his breath as he took stock of his body. He could feel his healing working, aware of the way it was knitting his bones back together by the way his fingers were going stiff and tight before relaxing again.
His panic attack had halted the physical healing until he calmed down but it was only a matter of minutes before he could bend and straighten his fingers with ease. Seconds after that his knees felt solid underneath him. Rolling his shoulders back ensured they were fine as well. With one last breath, Peter jumped backwards, falling through the air and landing lightly on the roof of a car.
Crouching low, Peter’s eyes took in the series of robots that were still milling about all around him, climbing over their wrecked companions as they surged through the streets.
“I'm okay,” Peter whispered to himself, allocating one last second to breathe before he crouched low and focused his senses in an effort to keep himself from getting overwhelmed.
Finally, Peter launched himself backwards, flipping off the car and soaring through the air. He landed on the shoulders of a larger sized robot (which, when did that happen) and brought his elbow down viciously, smashing through the metal faceplate without a moment of hesitation. He raised his arm on instinct and fired a series of condensed bullet-webs that sent a handful of smaller bots wheeling away and smashing to the ground.
Leaning back, he narrowly missed being impaled by a flying robot hand holy shit. He straightened back up, using his momentum to somersault forward and landing square on his feet to immediately punch through the chest of another bot.
Hand to hand was not Peter's specialty, but it was easy enough to send the robots flying with a single, super-powered punch. He put his body weight behind each one, letting his strength out in a way he wasn't often able to. He’d never go after a human villain the way he was going after these robots. It felt good, not having to hold himself in or monitor his strength the way he always had to do. It was exhilarating, and he continued to push himself as fast as he could, whirling around as he took out hordes of robots with webs and fists.
They didn't seem to be stopping or slowing down, no matter how many Peter went through. Swearing to himself, Peter jumped into the air and swung further down the street to get out of the pile of destroyed robots he was in. Damn, he’d gone through so many but it didn’t even seem to make a dent.
Peter sucked in a sharp breath when he noticed the large robot coming his way. Crap, that... was not good. It was the biggest robot that he’d seen, towering at least fifteen feet tall. Peter didn’t waste a second before he was swinging forward and webbing its legs together. He swung around the robot in a wide arch, shooting out webs and wrapping long streams of webbing around its legs.
Swinging his legs up, Peter got another burst of speed that he used to propel himself around the robot one last time before angling himself towards the street. Peter landed in a crouch and flexed his feet to stick them to the pavement. Bracing himself, he pulled strongly, straining until the robot toppled over. As the robot was careening towards the ground Peter was jumping into the air and gliding over it, webbing its arms to the street to stop it from getting up.
“Spider-Man?” Peter turned towards the disapproving voice as he straightened up, surprised to find Captain America addressing him.
Huh. Peter crouched down, much more comfortable in a defensive position even if it might not look like one to others. The last time he had seen the great Captain, they’d been fighting each other on opposite sides of the battle that tore the Avengers apart. Now, Captain America’s face was pulled down into an angry frown under his cowl.
Whatever. Captain America could look at him as angrily as he freaking wanted. What Peter did know about Captain America and his part in the “Civil War” (so dubbed by popular media and totally ridiculous) wasn’t good. From the few things that had been said by Tony and Happy in Peter’s range of hearing, the biggest conflict had been between the Captain and Tony Stark.
He wasn't going to give him the benefit of the doubt now, not when he knew that Tony didn't feel safe in his own home because of him. Well, at least Peter was pretty sure that's how Tony felt. Super-hearing and an AI best friend both had their perks, but he wasn’t totally sure since Tony tended to keep his feeling close to his chest and guarded by iron.
“Did you want something, Cap?” Peter asked, cocking a brow behind his mask when the man’s frown deepened.
“What are you doing here?” Captain America asked angrily and shifted until he was standing with his hands on his hips, shoulders squared and looking every bit of intimidating superhero that he was.
Ugh. Okay, apparently he didn’t just do that in teaching videos. Rolling his eyes, Peter didn't say anything for a minute so he could turn his whole body around and look back at the robot he had just taken down. With his voice as deadpan as he could make it, he said, “I'm fighting.”
“We don't need any help, kid. You shouldn't be here,” he told him condescendingly and Peter rolled his eyes under his mask again. God, he was so patronizing.
Peter once again looked back to the robot he had just taken down as his mind flashed to the woman he’d saved, and rolled his eyes again. “Duly noted,” he parroted back, lacing his voice with as much sarcasm as he could push into it.
Peter hadn't seen any of the other Avengers, even if he knew they were out there somewhere. It was strange for them all to be fighting at once but now that Peter was down on the streets and trying to deal with the robots himself, he understood why they were there. These robots literally had no chill. Peter shot a bullet web out and took out a robot that had been right behind Captain America, who whirled around with an outraged noise before he spotted the steaming scrap of metal Peter had taken out for him.
Just as Captain America was spinning back around, his mouth already open, Hulk roared loudly enough that it shook the street. Peter turned towards the noise, focusing on the blur of green that was still smashing robots—and cars—to pieces.
“You should probably make sure he doesn't hurt anyone,” Peter told him and then didn’t bother waiting for the Captain to respond.
He launched himself upwards from his crouched position, backflipping through the air in a move that was purely for show. As soon as his feet hit the ground he was throwing out a web, launching himself away from Captain America and twirling through the air dramatically. He took out robots even as he moved through the streets, heart racing with adrenaline as robots just kept coming and coming and coming.
“What are you doing here, kid?” Tony's voice crackled through his mask and Peter looked up in time to catch him flying overhead, his suit glistening in the sun. Honestly, Peter couldn't say he was surprised that Tony had waited until he was done speaking with the Captain before he said anything.
“Just helping out!” he called, jumping over a robot the length of a car. He landed in a crouch, muttered “laser web” and fired, holding on to the webbing until the bot was nothing but a charred, smoking pile of metal. “Do we know where they keep coming from?”
“They seem to be spilling out of the truck,” Tony told him and Peter spun his head around when Karen directed him, finding himself near the building he’d first landed on and much closer to the truck than he'd realized after getting away from Captain America.
Huh, alright.
“Got it!” Peter called, throwing out his arm and shooting a web, pulling tight and using it to slingshot himself forward.
It was easy enough to swing over the piles of metal that were littering the New York streets which had become a sea of half-dead and still-moving robots. There wasn't much fighting happening over here even though it would have been closest to the initial crash site, but Peter could still easily hear the sound of battle from around him.
Perching on the side of a building, Peter stuck his palm to the wall and held himself steady as he switched to grenade-webs. The truck was still smoking an odd, green-tinted smoke that was rising in a thick column, but it wasn't nearly as bad as it had been when Peter first arrived. The opening seemed wider than it’d been when Peter had first seen it and bots were spilling out lethargically, slowly pulling themselves out of the wreckage and spilling onto the street.
They were clearly not very smart. Peter was a little miffed that Doom sent out what were essentially stupid attack dogs, especially when the resulting battle had caused as much as this one had caused so far. Karen was running new statistics in the corner of his vision and the amount of damage was astronomical. Peter took a deep breath, letting his mask zoom in so he could get a better look at the carved-out whole on the truck’s side.
“Uh, Karen?” Peter asked, briefly wondering why she’d been so quiet for the last little bit when she generally chatted with him as he was fighting.
“Yes Peter?” she asked back, as prompt as ever. It made him smile under his mask, just a small twist of his lips.
“Do you think filling the truck with webbing would work to stop whatever the heck is generating the robots?”
There was a brief pause before, “There is a ninety-three-percent chance that your plan will work,” Karen told him clearly. Peter mentally fist-bumped, feeling a little flush of pride that his plan was going to work.
With Karen's help, it was easy to aim exactly where he needed the webs to go and he held himself steady as he started to fire grenade-webs into the truck’s hole, little strings of stray webbing flying through the air. With his enhanced hearing, Peter could hear the metal ting every time one of the tiny, metal beads hit the inside of the truck and burst open to spray out mass amounts of webbing. He didn't stop, not until webbing was spilling out and filling the truck, each little grenade-web having exploded open to fill the whole truck with his webbing.
He switched to a heavier webbing with a single word with Karen and shot over the opening, reinforcing the webbed-in entrance to ensure that no more robots would be able to get out. Jumping off the building, he landed lightly near the truck and began picking off the remaining few stray robots; it was easy to rip them apart and easier still to web them down. With a decisive nod, he left the rest for the Avengers, slingshotting himself into the sky so he could perch on a roof’s edge and watch as the rest of the robots were dealt with.
“Good job, kid,” Tony praised him, sounding genuinely proud, smile evident in his voice.
Peter fought down a blush at the praise, ignoring the way his cheeks felt warm while still letting a smile stretch across his lips happily. “Thank you.”
“Why don't you head out? I'll see you for dinner this weekend, right?” Tony asked in a way that made Peter feel warm.
He’d never get over the fact that the man he had spent so many years looking up to was checking in with him to make sure he would still be attending their weekly dinner night. Hell, the fact that they had a weekly dinner night was mind-blowing enough, even if it was a tradition they’d been observing for nearly two years.
“Yeah, Mr. Stark. I'll be there!” Peter chirped, jumping off the roof’s edge and beginning his trip back to his apartment, following the random, drawn-out route Karen outlined to help ensure that no one would be able to follow him.
There was a moment of silence wherein Tony was most likely fighting, before he asked, “And you're bringing that pretty Aunt of yours, right?”
“Yes, Tony, I’ll bring May,” Peter told him laughing, even though he wasn't completely sure whether or not Tony was kidding.
Sure, May might have come with him every now and again, but other than a few off-hand comments when they’d first met, Tony had never made any sort of move on her. Tony was a flirt, something that was well ingrained in his reputation for a reason. Hell, Peter had seen Tony flirt with super-villains in the past. It really might not mean anything but...
But, sometimes Peter caught him staring a bit too long—and so did May, if the way she’d start to blush meant anything.
“Get home safe, kid,” Tony told him, and the “you too, Dad” was on the tip of his tongue before Peter bit into his own lip to keep the words in. Nope. Nope, that was not something that Peter was ever going to say to Tony.
Instead, he replied in kind, asking Karen to switch off his comms as he swung home.
Peter landed lightly on his fire escape, balancing on his toes with barely a sound. He didn't crawl inside his window like he normally would, making no move forward. He didn't want to show that this was his apartment. Something was causing him to feel off, an uneasy feeling sitting in the back of his throat, thrumming along his temple, that he couldn't get rid of. He tried to remember just when it had started but he couldn't, not when he was still hopped-up on adrenaline from the fight.
His skin felt too tight, stretched thin over his bones in a way that had his heart racing.
After a bit more thought Peter realized that he'd felt like this for the entire trip home. Swearing, he spun around and let his instincts take over as he pointed his hand down and shot a web. Eyes widening in surprise, Peter let out a noise of surprise when he saw the metal fist that was now stuck to the building across from him. Peter cocked his head to the side, mask zooming in for him as Karen confirmed the man's identity in his ear.
Peter dropped to the street and landed with his knees crossed, taking a small, slow step forward, wondering what the hell James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes was doing following him home from a fight that Peter hadn't even seen him at.
“Um, did you follow me?” Peter asked, debating with himself on what to do next. He'd never spoken with the Winter Soldier before—not counting the barbs they had traded during the fight at the hanger—and he wasn't sure how to react to knowing the man had followed him home and, probably, knew where he lived.
The man didn't say anything, opting to stare at Peter unblinkingly, his lips twisted down into a scowl that was visible since he wasn’t wearing his usual mouth covering. The way he was watching Peter was more than a bit disconcerting, especially because Peter had no idea what the man wanted, why he was here, or how he had followed him home. It wasn't that he was scared, knowing that despite his past he was now an Avenger who signed the Accords and followed laws, as much as he was worried.
He just really didn't want to fight him and he really didn't want to have to worry about the Winter Soldier knowing where he and May lived, signed Accords or not.
He stopped just outside of the Soldier's reach, feeling uneasy at being as close as he was. The hair along the back of his neck was on end just from being so close, and Peter tried not to let it show, keeping his back straight and his limbs relaxed. Even still, he was hyper-focusing on the... hero? assassin? that was standing in front of him. The Soldier did nothing but stare back unblinkingly (which, damn, didn’t he need to blink, like, ever?) and Peter tried to ignore the growing unease that was settling in his belly.
He was fine. He was going to be fine.
“You were a threat,” Winter finally told him, his words rumbling thickly out of his chest, voice scratchy from obvious disuse. Wow, okay, that was threatening.
“Excuse me?”
“With the Cap—Steve. With Steve, you were a threat,” the man’s eyebrows were pulled down over his face and Peter couldn't help but think that his exaggerated pout was a little cute. Sure, he was a murderous assassin, but he was still kinda hot.
“Yeah, well, those were special circumstances, dude. It wasn't like we wanted to fight you guys,” Peter said, some of the unease dissipating at the confused look that crossed Winter’s face as some of the tension in his body eased.
“But Steve said—”
“I'm sure Captain said a lot of things, but there's always two sides to a story,” Peter cut in, not at all wanting to hear about what Steve Rogers may have said about Tony. There was a reason Peter didn't like him, after all.
“I—you were a threat,” Winter repeated. He looked so lost and sounded so confused that Peter's heart ached for him. He couldn't even imagine what it must have been like to go through all everything that he had, to commit horrors under somebody else's control and never be able to do anything about it. The fact that he was even willing to still be a hero, to still fight, was... well, it was pretty impressive.
Peter took another step forward and in a moment of probably-reckless bravery, pulled off his mask and raised out a hand. “I'm Peter. What's your name?“
“Uh, it is... it is Bucky?“ Winter’s voice raised at the end as he stared at Peter’s hand intently. Peter had to wonder if this was the first time that Winter had told someone his name.
“You don't sound so sure, dude?” Peter asked, not dropping his hand until Winter held his out and shook it. He kept his grip loose and body language open, an easy smile pulling at his lips as he looked up into Winter’s dark eyes, surrounded by black eye-makeup.
“They all call me Bucky,” was said with the same lost, confused tone of voice that made Peter want to take home a terrifying, grown man and cuddle him until he felt better.
“Oka—ay, but what do you want to be called? Because I keep calling you Winter in my head, and I'm not quite sure if that's what you want,” Peter told him as he awkwardly shifted his weight from foot to foot.
The other man didn't say anything for a while, and silence stretched between them. Peter waited as Winter seemed deep in thought, not wanting to disrupt whatever it was the man was seemingly working through. He didn’t have anywhere to rush off to since he was still supposed to be in school, so he stood still with his arms resting at his sides and watching Winter. It hurt, seeing someone so openly struggling with something like telling him his name. At the same time, Peter was sure he wasn't meant to see any of this and that if Winter knew he was being so expressive he would shut down.
Peter waited patiently, watching as a series of emotions played out of the man's face. He finally settled on something... not happy, really, but less conflicted than what Peter had seen so far. A tension eased out of his shoulders, and it made Peter happy in a way he hadn't been expecting. Winter wasn't a friend, wasn't anything close to being a friend, but Peter was as happy for him as if he was.
“I'd like to be called James,” he finally decided on and Peter felt a huge smile pull at his lips.
“Alright, James,” Peter told him happily, reaching out his hand for another handshake now that he could officially greet him. “It's nice to meet you.”
“You too,” James said, and Peter ignored how his voice raised at the end, making it sound more like a question than it was probably meant to be. His smile still didn’t waiver, feeling incredibly happy for someone he barely knew.
“So,” Peter began, rubbing at the back of his neck awkwardly, “why exactly did you follow me home?”
“You were a threat,” James told him plainly and at Peter's questioning frown he went on. “I don’t know who you are or anything about you. That made you a threat to me and the people I care about. I need to know more about you.”
“Oh,” Peter breathed, a question bouncing about his head that he wasn’t sure he was ready for the answer to. He couldn't help the way he was starting to like James and he only hoped the other man would like him back. “Uh, am I still a threat?”
The smile on James' face was small, barely tugging up the corner of his lips, but it was gorgeous for the way it transformed his entire face. The way his whole expression relaxed made him look like a completely different person, younger and lighter, and Peter couldn't help but grin back at him. “Nah, not anymore.”
“Oh,“ Peter repeated, but this time his tone was the complete opposite of what it’d been before. A smile stretched over his face and he didn't try to pull it down, especially when James smiled back at him, small but sure.
“Thank you,” James said, and Peter titled his head.
“For what?“
“No one has asked me what I would like to be called before,” James told him, and while Peter could have guessed that was the case, the confirmation still made his heart ache.
“I'm sorry,” Peter told him, and he meant it. He couldn't even imagine what James had been through but even more than that, he couldn’t even imagine how hard it must be for him now that everything was over and everyone had expectations of him. “If—” Peter began, tripping over his own words with nervous energy, “if you ever want to do something, or, like, hang out? Maybe? I don't know what your schedule is like, of course, but if you ever wanted to do something or have someone to spend time with that wasn’t one of the Avengers I would be happy, like so happy, if you wanted, to—”
“Could you show me around?” James cut him off to ask him eagerly, and Peter let out a little sigh of relief. “New York is nothin' like it used t' be.”
“Sure!” Peter said, forcing himself to stand still and not excitedly hop in place. “Do you want my number? You could text me when you're free.”
“Uh,” James started, trailing off before he stared at the ground awkwardly. Peter realized that the man's hand was still stuck to the wall and he quickly walked forward to get him unstuck, pulling a tube of dissolvent off his waist to pour over the webs keeping him stuck to the wall. “Thanks,” James told him once he was free, using his metal hand to rub at the back of his neck. “I... uh, I don't know my phone number?”
“Oh!” Peter exclaimed and immediately wanted to smack himself in the face. God, he was not usually this ridiculous. Stupidly attractive assassins. “Here, if you give me your phone, I can give you my number?”
“Alright.”
James pulled his phone out of one of the many, many pockets that adorned his attire and handed it over to Peter easily. The sign of trust made him smile again, and Peter swiped the phone open before going to the contact app. It was quick work to add his name and number and he sent himself a text so he could do the same for James before handing his phone back.
“Here, I sent myself a text so I have your number too,” Peter told him, the easy smile still pulling at his lips.
“I... alright. Thank you, Peter,” James said with a heaviness to his voice that made Peter think he was talking about more than just his offer to show the man around the city.
“I should probably go,” Peter told him, taking a half step back but offering a smile. “Text me whenever you want, okay? I always have my phone on me!”
Before Peter could embarrass himself any further— really, text me whenever you want? Goddammit, Parker, he's an Avenger what were you thinking— he flung his arm back, shooting out a web and pulling it taught, sling-shooting himself backward. He didn't look back as he climbed into his window, stepping out of his suit even as he asked himself what the hell he’d just done by befriending the Winter Soldier.